Grid Wars
by Randel
Summary: Long before The Gathering, wars of power were fought
1. Prelude: A Public Dissertation

**_Disclaimer:  __I do not own the Power Rangers, and I truly doubt that I ever will. However, there are several things within this series that I do own including all original ideas and characters herein.  Do not take without asking.  _**

**_Notes:  __This is a prelude to Grid Wars.  It is not a story per se, it is a text written by a prominent character within the story.  This character's views and explanations are integral to the storyline.  _**

~*~

**A Public Dissertation**

A discussion on the defining characteristics of a Power Ranger

By Master Borin Voltaire

**Introduction**

A common question among students today is, 'What exactly is a Power Ranger?' A frustrating query if ever there was one, the answer is ever changing to accommodate new revelations, happenings, and the occasional break in political technicalities.  To answer such a question, one must return to its source.

Almost one hundred years ago a woman by the name of Mercedes of Vikadin, became the first ever 'Power Ranger'.  Mercedes was, as most historical accounts agree, a pure genius.  Her studies of the Power made advances in scientific, psionic and magical fields.  In addition, she was well on her way to solidifying the United Alliance of Benevolence, thereby securing lasting peace in this galaxy and possibly throughout the known Universe.  

In her studies of these fields of the unifying force known as the Power, she came upon a subset of the Power.  This subset was the power of change, it was not purely magical in nature as most assume the Power to be, but a mixture of technology, magic, psionics, and perhaps even some powers not know to us.  She called it, the Morphin Grid.  With this Morphin Grid, Mercedes believed that she would be able to create her Champions of Benevolence, Rangers of the Power.

The first instance of morphing into a Ranger came one night when Mercedes was walking home after a grueling political meeting.  The streets of Ismen, capitol of Eltar, were not free of such common a thing as muggers, and Mercedes quite suddenly found herself surrounded by several of the footpads.  Without hesitation, she reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew the item with which she had been experimenting.  What today would be termed, a 'Power Coin'.  A shouted phrase of power and she was clad in white armor with golden designs.  I almost feel sorry for the footpads.

Not one month later, Mercedes t'Vikadin, was dead, assassinated, a victim of political maneuverings and intrigue.

The exact definition of what constitutes a 'Power Ranger' is still up for argument and likely will be for quite a while now, with designations popping up such as 'Eltaren Ranger', and 'Power Defender'.  Officially and politically, a Power Ranger is a humanoid warrior part of a team of six, who has the ability to morph into a Ranger and is sanctioned by the UAB or a Grid Master.  In my opinion, and for the purposes of this essay, a Power Ranger is any person who uses the Morphin Grid to transform into a Ranger, a 'Ranger' being a powered morphed form.

The young and even many of my learned colleagues want a concrete template or plan or form by which the powers from the Morphin Grid are formed and defined. I have found in my studies and experiments of this power, that either no such plan exists or that the plan is so enormous in its subtleties and design that finding a pattern would be not only a huge undertaking, but an even bigger waste of time. However, there does seem to be a loose set of rules by which the Morphin Grid powers arrange themselves.  

Physically, a Ranger gains from this Morphin Grid, enhanced physical attributes (strength, speed, sensory perception, etc).  In addition, while in Ranger form the Ranger is physically protected by a suite of full body armor that in no way impedes freedom of movement.  The Ranger is also supplied with a small armory of weapons (if said warrior uses weapons), accelerated healing, and several other attributes discussed further in the following entries.    

**Creation**

There are two states of a morphing talisman, defined and undefined.  According to the notes of Mercedes t'Vikadin, the first power coin was created by taking a regular golden disk, and turning it into a tap and focus for the power of the Morphin Grid.  That is all the more preparation she made.  When she morphed, her subconscious defined the particulars.  This process of allowing the user's first morph to define the Ranger is known as a blind morph.  After this first morph, the coin is defined and will always produce the defined Ranger.  Furthermore, the more such a talisman is used, the further defined it becomes.  

Since that first morph, another, more regulated method has been established.  Talismans are now created with more definition to them, including any combination of the following; spirit guides, weapons, armor and armor design, color, battle mecha or some other defining factor.  When defined in this manner, the talisman always produces the Ranger defined.  However, that's not to say that further definition cannot be implemented at a later date.  

Certain situations might call for specific tools or gear.  A Ranger team might find it necessary to develop a handheld device in order to track a particular villain.  Once created, this device could be incorporated into the Ranger's standard gear receiving all the benefits of being powered by the Morphin Grid.  It should also be noted that when certain items are incorporated into a Ranger's gear, they will take on the color of that particular Ranger.  For example, the tracking device from the earlier example might have been created from metal plating of a dull grey color.   After a while, this device will no longer remain the color of its origin, but will instead take on the color of the Ranger who is using it.  

With Mercedes t'Vikadin's assassination, the United Alliance of Benevolence is not as strong as it could have been and for that reason, there are wars breaking out throughout the galaxy.  With the knowledge of how to create Power Rangers becoming more and more common, those with the power to do so, are.  Any number of talismans have been created: undefined, highly defined, and anywhere in-between.  Which is the best method is a topic hotly debated.  

**Color**

One of the first things noticed about a Ranger is his color. That is, the primary color of his armor, arms, and even his civilian garb. The designation of color is widely believed to depend, in most cases, upon the individual's personality. There are two main exceptions to this rule.

The first occurs when one transforms with a highly defined talisman not of their primary color. For example, I am considered a Yellow personality. However if I were to pick up a power coin that had been designed to produce a Pink Ranger and attempted to morph, I would take the form of the specified Pink Ranger, if I was able to use that talisman at all.

Another exception occurs, when in a team of Rangers where the talismans are defined to create a team with specified colors, there are two of similar personalities. In cases such as this, usually the one who strays most from the particular personality will be given a color of close relation. For example, White and Pink often share similar outlooks and demeanors.

This phenomenon of being able to take on colors not your own leads me to believe that a sentient being's personality is so complex that most will be considered to be of a primary color, perhaps even a secondary color and then of all others at once. It should be kept in mind however, that the declaration that personality defines Ranger color does not always hold true.

**Color Personalities/Philosophies**

(As currently defined by the Grid Masters)

Black – Artist

Music, color, words, movement… the mediums by which art and beauty can be represented are at the Black personality's disposal.  Musicians, and poets, painters and dancers the Black expresses emotion through art and cherishes the beauty thereof and that which naturally surrounds them.  Being natural artists, the Black is quite creative, a trait that assists a team greatly when something new needs to be done.  Blacks tend to take up the position of second in command largely because they are too outspoken not to speak their mind, but the position of leadership demands too strict a nature.  Much like the Silver and Purple personalities, Blacks are sometimes seen as too carefree and relaxed in their duties, and thought of as not realizing the seriousness of the position they have taken.

Blue – Inventor

Despite the name, being an inventor is not a requirement for Blues.  This color of the Grid was dubbed such because an inordinate amount of them are geniuses gifted with the ability to create things.  In actuality, the defining traits of those who bear the blue mantle are a tenacious attitude and the ability to think on their feet.  In addition to this, they tend to be fairly quiet and self-effacing, sometimes to a fault.  Because of this, Blues and Yellows tend to form strong bonds as the Yellow personality will usually be the first to draw the Blue out of their shell.  The Blue's sharp mind and ability to think quickly assist them in political situations furthering the chance of a Yellow/Blue bond.

Gold – Soldier

Gold Rangers are highly reserved, they will often only offer an opinion when asked for it and simply follow or give orders as the situation demands.  Because of this, Golds have gotten the reputation for being 'good little soldiers'.  Certainly not a complementary reputation.  Though they do indeed tend to be very soldier like, the Gold's behavior patterns display the desire to think things through instead of flying off the handle, and their desire keep team cohesiveness.  Golds are also highly proud, some say vain.  Their personal honor is second only to that of their friends and companions.  To insult the honor of a Gold is to pick a fight, no matter how reserved they may be.  However once the dispute is settled, they do not hold a grudge.  

Green – Mystic

The Green personality is known for being insightful, often seeing things others overlook.  In accordance with this, Greens are often of a mystical nature, sometimes being somewhat misty and distant from the real world, making them a mystery, at once exciting and frightening.  This has the potential of distancing the Green from his teammates.  Greens are also known for being reserved, rather like the Blues, but rarely to that extreme.  Unfortunately, more Greens than any other color have betrayed the UAB and turned to the dark.  Because of this, some have come to call the color cursed and accuse all Greens of being traitors.  Obviously I disapprove of such nonsense, I believe this view to be highly illogical and highly bigoted.  

Pink – Healer

This is the color of the one who wants to stop pain.  Most commonly this takes form in the Pink becoming a medic or doctor, but it also includes those who wish to heal wounds of the mind, or damage to the land.  Pinks are very open and honest, making it difficult for them to see dishonesty and deceit.  Though the Power, and thereby the Morphin Grid is neither good nor evil, it is highly uncommon to see an evil Pink Ranger.  

Purple – Rogue

The personality to take the purple mantle is that of the trickster or the thief.  They tend to have excellent minds for the arena of stealth, and deceit, preferring to receive maximum results with very little effort.  Unfortunately, despite the many talents and obvious usefulness of such warriors, some would call Purples the dregs of the Ranger Spectrum.  Where the Black is laidback, and the Silver is a loose cannon, the Purple is a veritable rogue.  Stealing, drinking, lying, beding, and gambling are often common pursuits of the Purple personality.  Such behaviors indicate a lust for life and for living the moment, not a irresponsible or foul natured personality.  Purples often find themselves butting heads with Reds, and to a lesser degree, Golds.  The more straight-laced nature of Red and Gold is quite at odds with Purple's.

Red – Warrior

Red is the color of action, of battle and of anger.  Reds are more suited to action then to words, they would rather leave the diplomacy to the Yellows and Blues.  For this reason, Reds are not necessarily the best leaders, though they often are in such a position because of their battle prowess.  That said, on the field of battle, Red's are quite often in the lead, a sort of battle charisma allowing them to issue orders that their companions will follow.  Their greatest weakness and perhaps their greatest weapon, is the Red's short and great temper.  Emotion, especially anger, is powerful and in the hands of one such as a Red Ranger, it can be incredibly dangerous.    Unfortunately, for the Red who is not careful, and who is not in control, that same righteous anger that gives him power can turn against, and consume him.  

Silver – Maverick

Silver is the most erratic color of the Ranger Spectrum.  Cocky, arrogant, disrespectful to authority figures and rules, Silvers are seen as wild, sometimes dangerous.  However, those who attempt to understand this behavior will note that the cockiness is simply a certainness of their abilities, arrogance is a tactic to irritate an enemy, and respect is something that is earned through action, not rank.  In addition to being a loose cannon, Silvers are stubborn, once they set their mind to something, whether it be to get their commander to loosen up, or to hold a tactical position against an enemy, it takes a good deal to stop them.  

White – Knight

In the beginning, White Rangers were considered the purest, noblest and most perfect of all others.  After all, the first ever Ranger was White.  I do not disagree that Mercades t'Vikadin was a good person, but the idea that White symbolizes absolute perfection is ludicrous.  Instead, Whites are noble people, dedicated to their cause.  In the case of most, this translates to perfecting chivalry, to becoming a veritable White Knight.  Some find this irritating, some find it laudable, for the White personality, it is simply their way.  As with the Pink personality, it is highly rare to see an evil White Ranger.  

Yellow – Defender

Yellows serve as the protector and peacemaker of the group.  They are fiercely defensive of their friends, often latching onto one in particular who might need such protection and are the first to step in when those friends don't see eye to eye.  At the negotiating table, Yellows are invaluable; many find it difficult to dislike them.  The flaw of a Yellow lies in the fact that they can be somewhat overbearing.  In the case of one who is in need of their protection at the beginning, this can make it so that the one protected has little chance to grow on their own.  

**Life Preservation**

'May The Power protect you.'  This blessing has become quite popular among those dealing with Rangers, and there is good reason for it.  When one is able to channel the Power through the Morphin Grid via some talisman or other, one is afforded many abilities, the most obvious of which is the transformation into a Ranger.  There are also four main physical protections.

**Armor**

A Power Ranger's armor is constructed of a lightweight highly durable material known as plasti-steel.  This material when powered by the Morphin Grid becomes nearly indestructible, able to take a great deal of punishment while leaving the Ranger unharmed.  In addition to this, the material hinders movement in no way no matter the form it takes.  There are currently three forms that a Ranger's armor might take.  

The first form is simply called Armor.  In this form, the Ranger's armor appears just much like unpowered plasti-steel armor with plates and joints, an obvious barrier between the warrior and an attack.  The second form to appear is a thin formfitting suit.  Though it is so thin, this Suit is just as protective as the Armor.  The third form is a looser fitting cloth like material.  This form of the Ranger armor first appeared on the first Ninjetti team.  Again, the Cloth armor is just as protective as the other two.  The different forms seem to be simply cosmetic as freedom of movement and physical protection seem to be more dependant upon the type of power and skills of the Ranger than the type of armor worn.  

Despite the fact that said armor is greatly enhanced by the Morphin Grid, it is possible to for it to be damaged.  Ranger's Helmets have been known to crack, armor to rip, et cetera.  It would, in general, take the most brilliant of smiths to repair such a thing.  Fortunately, much like the Accelerated Healing factor, any Ranger armor, and in fact any equipment powered by the Grid will naturally regenerate.  

**Accelerated Healing**

The Power is constantly augmenting a Ranger's immune and physical recovery systems.  Should a Ranger sustain a physical wound or take ill, the power that courses through their body during a morph is the same power that will speed their recovery, in civilian and Ranger form.  A minor cut received during preparation of dinner, a sun burn achieved while enjoying the outdoors, even these little harms are remedied.  However, while the Power does speed the recovery process, the recovery process must still take place, as many an impulsive Ranger might tell you.  

For example, should a Ranger have had to undergo surgery in order to correct an irritated internal structure, though the process of recovery is significantly sped up, it still must take place.  Should such an impulsive Ranger decide to morph anyway and take to the field of battle, the energy from the morph will quite likely take away the pain while in the morphed state.  However, the condition is likely to be aggravated by battle and since much of the power is going into supplying the physical enhancements, armor and armaments, the healing process will not be optimized.

Another relevant note on Accelerated Healing is that it works harder and faster on the more serious injuries, i.e. if a Ranger receives a gash to the thigh a black eye and a broken rib, the Power will heal the broken rib fist and foremost, fast as it can.  The gash to the thigh will be next and then, the black eye if it's not healed already. 

**Power Down **

Another protection device employed by the power is a Power Down.  It takes a certain amount of strength to morph and to remain morphed, though a Ranger will hardly take notice of this while in peak form. Should a Ranger take a significant amount of damage, even if in the middle of battle, they will revert to their civilian forms.  This is a defense mechanism that keeps a Ranger from being overwhelmed and destroyed by the Power, as the loss of said strength might make it impossible for the Ranger to continue to maintain the control of the Power

**Suspended Animation**

The final form of protection is a result of a fatal blow and doesn't necessarily always initiate or in the event that it does, succeed in saving the Ranger.  Instead of powering down, the Ranger immediately goes comatose in Ranger form with all their power going into physical protection and repairing the body.  Unfortunately, few have survived this process.  

**Passion**

According to some philosophers, emotion is something for those who have yet to master themselves, that to become a truly wise and competent being, one must be able to move past such basic feelings.  I am not inclined to agree.  Emotion is a part of us, it is our nature to feel sad or happy or angry or excited.  And channeled correctly and with the proper discipline, emotion is powerful.  

I have seen a Ranger, burst into a room where her comrades were being held captive by a group of villains.  Despite the fact that the rest of the team together was captured by these villains, the Ranger bursting into the room is filled with such a righteous fury as to be neigh unbeatable.  

Having made my position clear, I must caution that use of anger as a weapon can go horribly wrong.  Use your emotions, do not let them use you.  A Ranger is granted their power on the idea that they will use it for the sake of what is good and right.  In the heat of battle, emotion may well cloud the mind and a well meaning Ranger could do something they will later regret.  Therefore, while I disagree with divorcing oneself from emotion, I strongly insist on control of that emotion.  

**Extended Time**

When Rangers first began to experience what is now referred to as Extended Time, they thought that they were simply loosing themselves in the battle.  A full morphing sequence usually includes gesticulation and vocalization taking at least a second or two, but once a Ranger calls upon the power, an outsider watching sees them flash brilliantly for a moment and then they are changed.  Further, as I can attest, during the transformation, one might feel as though they are bathed in that power for an eternity.  This is the phenomenon of extended time.  

Powering up and firing a particular weapon might take far to long for an ordinary person, but when prepared by a Ranger it is possible for it to actually take only a moment despite the fact that it may have seemed to take several precious seconds to the Ranger.  Many Rangers describe a featureless space when in the grip of this phenomenon.  There is nothing but themselves and their task, oft times including their target.  This might suggest that perhaps a Ranger slips into a pocket dimension or subspace when this extra time is needed.  This topic is hotly debated and as yet, uncertain.  

**Subspace**

Power Rangers make great use of pocket dimensions or Subspace.  Pocket dimensions can be quite small or very large, depending on who creates them and how.  The pocket dimensions used by Rangers are created by tapping into the Morphin Grid and morphing into a Ranger.  A Power Ranger then has the ability to store all manner of objects within this pocket including his armor, weapons, morpher and other gear that might be used in the line of Ranger business.  

**Innate Knowledge**

How does one be a Ranger?  Now we have the Academy, where students can learn various subjects from combat to strategy to diplomacy.  However, even the Academy cannot teach everything that is needed in order to achieve optimal performance in Ranger form.  Fortunately, the Power imbues us with this knowledge upon morphing.  Therefore the required skills come naturally to the Ranger, from use of weapons, the operation of zords.

**Conclusion**

In many ways, this is a summary of what many already know.  It does, however, strike me as odd, that many people still ponder of the question of what a Power Ranger is.  I have compiled this document in an attempt to answer this question as simply and in as short a time as possible.  It should, of course, be noted that what is declared in this document is not a comprehensive list of all that is possible.  We do not and will not know everything about the Morphin Grid.  And that, I believe, is the most important part.  

I submit that the possibilities of the Morphin Grid and thereby Power Rangers, are unbounded.


	2. The Grid War: Part 1

**_Disclaimer: _**_ I do not own the Power Rangers and no money if being made from this fanfiction. It should, however, be noted that I do own all the original ideas herein. And, surprise, there's quite a few of them. Do not take without permission, please. For a full list of what here is an original idea, e-mail me. _

**_Timeline: _**_This takes place long before the happenings of 'The Gathering' and is a part of that storyline. _

_Any and all comments can be directed to Randelm@hotmail.com_

**The Grid War: Part 1**

Plant the seeds of dissention

"The final order of business today…" The Speaker of the Council, an old man by the name of Natin, adjusted his blue robes and squinted at a sheaf of papers. "Juinor member Rashid has a proposal he wishes to put forth." Natin gestured to the center floor and resumed his seat. 

Rashid stood and took a deep breath to steady himself. Taking even measured steps, the gold robed young man made his way down the ramp, past rows of tables behind which sat the multi hued Councilors of the Grid. Finally having reached the center circle, Rashid moved to the center of it. 

"Esteemed members of the Council. I come before you today to propose to you an ideal that has become quite obvious to me in the recent months. In fact, that which I am about to tell you is actually common sense. It is information taught to every student at the Academy, and I am astonished and embarrassed that this council has never saw fit to take the action I am about to propose, before."

As Rashid spoke, he turned in a slow circle so as to present his back to no one specifically. As the young man paused in his speech, he could hear the murmured voices of the council. Curiosity, irritation, a bit of confusion… After all, this pup had never before gone before the council to speak, and now he dared to say that the council had been foolish to overlook something every student knew. 

Rashid could feel the sweat thick on his palms. Taking great pains not to wipe them on his robes, Rashid continued, unfocusing his eyes so that they could not focus on any one person of the council. "For you see, Councilors, we have made a mistake in allowing some people the right to take seats among us. It all has to do with color. White and Pink, Blue and Yellow, and Gold. These are the colors of those who mean nothing but the best for all life. These are the superior colors. Now the others, Red, Black, Silver, Purple, and Green… Well, let us take a moment to examine them, shall we?"

Rashid put his hands behind his back and clutched them tightly there. Sweat was running down his back now, his arm pits were sodden. Forcing a polite smile onto his face, Rashid momentarily focused his eyes on the crowd. Some looked shocked, some looked angry, some looked disbelieving… quickly, Rashid lets his eyes unfocus again. He didn't want to read the crowd's reaction, he had his whole speech memorized, no reaction would change it. 

"First, Red. At first glance they seem simply to be the dedicated warrior, but when one scratches the surface, one will find pure rage. Rage that can and eventually will, consume the Red posing an incredible threat to all those around them. Imagine if that were to happen in the council chamber, hum? And what of the Black? They care nothing for the safety of the people, they are simply not able to understand the seriousness of the situation. The same can be said for Silver, and furthermore the Silver is dangerous in its inability to follow orders. A silver will do whatever they want, causing trouble more often than not."

Stepping to a small table on the edge of the stage, Rashid took the pitcher of water that stood there and filled a small cup. He drained the slightly sweetened liquid, then filled the cup again. He held the cup in his hands and began to pace around the center stage. "And finally, the Purple and the Green." He was making many enemies today, and knew it, but he was making an invaluable ally today as well. A gamble, but Rashid never made a gamble not in his favor. "Everyone knows the Purple's tendency to… how does it go, Master Borin?"

Rashid turned and looked directly at the yellow clad Master. The older man simply raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face remained the stony expressionless it had had before. 

"Ah yes, I remember. 'Stealing, drinking, lying, beding, and gambling are often common pursuits of the Purple personality.' I say, that's not exactly someone I'd want representing me in council."

Master Borin's face remained stony and Rashid quickly continued his pacing, shooting the water as though it were something harder. "And finally the Greens. Well, we all know that more Greens than any other have pledged themselves to the dark side. Gone to join Dark Specter's army, giving away the secrets of the Morphin Grid, and of the Academy and of this Council."

"I say those of the inferior colors not be allowed to sit on the Council of the Grid. Furthermore, none should hold the title of Master. They simply are not stable enough in personality to hold such positions. They represent a threat to us all."

Rashid stopped moving in the center of the circle, standing quite still but to lower his head, signaling that he was done. Not surprisingly, quite nearly the entire chamber leapt to their collective feet and began shouting, each trying to be heard over the other, resulting in a monstrous cacophony. 

Master Borin was one who kept his seat. Instead of looking to the stupid young man in the center of the floor, he was scanning the crowd. Scanning for a man he knew had to be there. Yes, Master Marthal, of the White. Marthal too, had kept his seat. The man's face betrayed nothing, but suddenly he looked up in Borin's direction. Their gazes met and Marthal's eyes narrowed, then he smiled faintly, challenging.

_So,_ thought Borin, _it has begun. You've finally done it you bastard._ The Yellow Master was uncertain what his own expression bore, but currently he didn't care. 

Abruptly, Marthal broke eye contact and stood, making his way to the aisle then turned and walked out of the chamber, unnoticed in the clamor that only began to die down when Natin, Speaker of the Council sounded a large gong several times, his gavel having not done the trick. 

Master Borin sat through the slew of counter arguments and insults, hurled Junior Member Rashid's way in an orderly manner. He knew this wasn't to be the end. If Marthal was behind all of this, there was a bigger scheme hidden away somewhere. By the end of the session, Rashid's proposal was thrown out unanimously but for Rashid's own vote.

_This means he cannot bring forth the proposal for a full month. But when that month is out, will he do so? If he's being controlled by Marthal, no doubt. Indeed this is not the end._ Borin stood and exited the chamber with all the rest.

When he was in his private chambers, Borin discarded his formal council robes and clad himself in a more comfortable pair of yellow silk breeches and pale cream shirt. Then he rang for a servant and asked the young man to fetch his protégé. Not a minute later, for his student must have already been on the way to see him, the door opened and a red clad young man entered.

"Is it true?" asked the young man.

"Goodness, news does travel quickly in these halls. Sit, Jacq, and we shall discuss matters over tea."

Bursting with questions, but mindful of the fact that his Master and teacher would answer nothing until the tea was served, Jacq sat on the other side of the low table. Borin poured a steaming green tinged liquid into two cups. Taking a long drink, Borin closed his eyes and allowed the warm bitter drink to calm him.

"Now, Jacq, your question?"

"Word is that some idiot in council tried to draw a line between superior and inferior colors."

Borin nodded. "That is true."

"But… but the council laughed him out of the chamber, right?"

"Something to that effect. Jacq, if you don't drink your tea, it will get cold." Borin took another sip, then continued. "But it will not end here. I have reason to believe that an old acquaintance of mine is behind all of this. And if I am correct, then I will have to prepare for it, or things may turn horribly wrong."

Jacq took a long drink. "Alright then, what do we do?"

"Your team is nearly ready for the trial, yes?"

"Yes, Master. We are scheduled to take them in one week." Jacq looked inquiringly at Borin. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"As you know I am gifted with a bit of foresight. I have a feeling, only a feeling mind you, that you and your team will be instrumental to this battle."

The two sat in silence for a while. 

Finally, Jacq spoke up. "Master, you do know that Ria Renae…"

"Of course I know Jacq."

"But don't you think her father's…"

"The thought had occurred to me. I have come to trust my instincts, Jacq. You've an interesting group of people on your team. I believe that, if nothing else, will give you the advantage."

Jacq nodded. "I will trust in your wisdom, master."

Borin chuckled and poured himself more tea. "You flatter me, Jacq."

"Well, one does what one must to keep the elders placated." Jacq sipped at his tea, grinning at his mentor in wry amusement. For quite a while thereafter, neither spoke. 

~*~

The student's refectory at the Grid Academy was a large room with a high ceiling. It had to be large to accommodate all the students studying, training and hoping to be Rangers. There was almost always a group of students occupying the room, whether it was a small study group in the wee hours of the morning or en mass dinner group as it was now. The clamor of the hall was jumbled and generally incomprehensible on the grand scale of things, but if one were to concentrate on a single conversation at a time, one would come to find that the conversations seemed to be more or less centered on the same subject. 

"I suppose you've heard the news?" the voice of Dimitria was calm as always. The fair skinned dark haired Inquirian shared her people's talent for an absolutely irritating serenity and penchant for putting all sentences in the form of questions. Fortunately, her friends had broken her of that habit fairly early on… mostly. 

"Who hasn't?" countered Ria Renae. Ria was a short girl with long silky black hair and a doll like face. "I can't believe that some idiot really tried to pull that crap."

Nikolas Baligant shrugged. "The council voted against it two hundred ninety four to one. It's over. Hey, Dulcea, pass the bread, eh?"

Nik's sister and twin tossed him the loaf and he caught it easily. The twins shared wavy redish brown hair, and green eyes. "Only two hundred ninety four?" she asked, "That plus Rashid's one makes five people who didn't vote."

"Exactly," said Zordon. Zordon was the group's second in command. He had short blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His plate of food sat on the table before him, untouched. "Thortal of Phadoes," Zordon looked to the twins at this, for Thortal had been their teacher before they had come to the Academy, "Is confirmed to have been sick. He was not at the meeting. But that leaves four council members unaccounted for."

"But who to suspect? Rashid's friends?" asked Dulcea.

"Like he's got any," responded Ria. "The guy's about as low as you can get on the Council totem. He went through five Ranger teams before an 'early retirement from the field'. If you ask me, no one wanted him cause his snobbish."

"I take if you've met him then?" inquired Dimitria.

"S'matter of fact, yeah. He and Jacq and I and a couple of others all worked on a research project that Master Borin gave a couple of years ago. Just before he went of to Rangering duty." Ria shrugged. "As I said, snobbish."

"That's one we can count on to not have to suspect," commented Nik.

"Who?" asked Ria.

"Master Borin," Dulcea responded for her brother whose mouth had filled with casserole. 

"Well, why suspect anyone?" Ria shook her head. "I really can't see some vast conspiracy within the Grid Council. What'd be the point? Furthermore what would we do about it?"

They all looked to Zordon who sat staring off at nothing as he often did when he was thinking. Thinking… and more. Recently, Zordon had been developing a penchant for foresight, Master Borin had been teaching him in its use. A moment later, Zordon blinked. "I don't know," he said. "Ria could be right, we could be worried for nothing. But it seems awfully strange that there would be four councilors unaccounted for on such an important vote."

"Is it really that important?" voiced Nik.

Zordon nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. It's important because if it isn't stopped now… There have been rumors circulating for a while now about this. A lot of tension has been building in the council on the subject, but everyone had been pretending it didn't exist. Now that it's been blown open… Rashid can bring up the proposal again in a month. And he will. Some councilors are going to seriously consider this proposal. If people begin to act on this idea there will be fights, not just political. Then, there will be more than fights."

Zordon took a drink and looked at his friends.

"You sure about this, Zordon?" Dulcea looked dubiously around the table.

"I believe that he is correct," affirmed Dimitria. The youngest of them bit her lip in thought. "If this is not stopped soon, people are going to begin choosing sides. They may well choose sides based upon Grid Color. Teams could be split up."

"It can't get that far unless there really is a conspiracy," said Ria. "Four missing councilors on an important vote that Zordon says they knew was coming."

"Perhaps it is nothing," Dulcea said, "But if it is not, what can _we_ do about it?"

No one had an answer for that. The five sat in silence, allowing the voices in the hall wash over them. When Jacq Dezz arrived, he found his friends in a somber and contemplative state. 

"What happened here?" he asked in a voice meant to produce a smile. His team greeted him warmly as he sat next to Ria who leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. 

"We've just been thinking," responded Dimitria.

"About who didn't vote at the council meeting today," clarified Nik, "And why."

"Do you think there's a conspiracy?" Ria asked their leader.

Jacq pursed his lips. "I didn't at first, but I had a talk with Master Borin that convinced me otherwise." He paused to take a bite of the casserole and swallow. "He thinks there may be bigger trouble because of this in the near future. He asked… well, he kind of obliquely asked for our help. Said he thought we'd play a part in what might happen."

"I just love precognition," interrupted Ria, "It's just so ambiguous." Dulcea smirked and Nik snorted.

"As Dulcea asked before you got here, Jacq," said Dimitria, "What will we be able to do about the situation?"

Jacq just shook his head, "I don't know, perhaps after the trials…" He stopped. The six didn't talk much after that. After dinner they walked to the dormitories and then separated, each to their own rooms. 

The days passed quickly and talk of the ludicrous proposal died just as fast. Master Borin saw this as a bad thing, to forget was to repeat mistakes, but Jacq and his friends had more on their minds. The date for their trials was nearing and they were in constant preparation. 

The morning of the event, the five gathered in the refectory. It was early morning, the sun had yet to even rise, and they were the only students there. Each got a bowl of oatmeal and a mug of milk, but none really felt like eating. Or talking for that matter, all their energy was being saved for later. 

As the time for the start drew nearer, the six approached the great hall where they would meet the Grand Masters before the start of the trial. The large double doors carved with all manner of symbols and figures stood closed, but as they approached, the portals began to swing slowly open. 

The six entered the large chamber. A long table separated them from the Grand Masters, ten elders who had served both as Rangers and council members, one for each color. They stood in a straight line before the table at relaxed attention, waiting. The team was dressed as all teams were before the trials, clad all in their grid color. Jacq in red, Dimitria and Zordon in white, Dulcea in green and Nikolas in blue. Ria was the oddity of the group and indeed of the academy, for she as yet had no color. In all the attempts at the grid crystal, no color had shown for her, but neither had it rejected her. Therefore, Ria appeared dressed all in ivory, or perhaps cream depending on how one defined such things. It was the off white color assigned to new students. None was armed as was the custom for the trials, though they knew there would be fighting. 

Finally, the White Grand Master spoke. "Jacq Dezz of the Red, is your team ready?"

Jacq bowed, "It is, sir."

And with that surprising lack of pomp, the team was gestured into the courtyard where the alabaster arch stood. It was filled with crackling energy all the colors of the grid. The six would enter this arch and emerge Rangers, or never have the chance again. Without hesitation, the team walked though the arch. 

~*~

"The definition of what a Ranger is, is defined by Master Borin as 'any person who uses the Morphin Grid to transform into a Ranger,'" The young woman addressed the assembled councilors. Sharing the center floor with the purple robbed woman, was an armored figure, or perhaps a figure of armor. The heavy looking armor was black except where it was grey, and was unarmed.

Master Borin nodded in acknowledgement to the woman's (Tashin? Tashir?) quoting of him. She seemed to strengthen a bit under his approval, and continued.

"The only technicality that will cause this council to disallow my project is lack of color. But in my opinion and, if I am not mistaken, in the opinion of Master Borin, color alone does not define what a Ranger is." 

She moved to the center of the stage and lowered her head, opening the subject for discussion. Borin stood to lend his support, but was beat to the punch by none other than Marthal. 

"Tashir Rho, this is your first project as a full Grid Mage, yes?" asked the white clad councilor in a kind voice. 

Borin frowned, he hated jumping at shadows, but this didn't seem right. _What game is he playing now?_

"Yes, sir," Tashir responded quickly.

"And already you are attempting a Ranger, quite an unconventional Ranger. Let us tick off the points for why your project might be rejected by this council. One, it is a single Ranger and not a team. Two, it has no color nor any is there any room definition wise for color. Three, its main power is that of invisibility, something many might consider dishonorable."

Marthal looked around the council chamber, several of its occupants nodding in agreement. Tashir Rho seemed to deflate under the pressure of those words. Again, Borin prepared to speak, and again, Marthal beat him to it. 

"However, I do not believe that such restrictions do any good. I believe that they are simply a political tool to control Rangers."

"And why not?" shouted another of the councilors, a grizzled old Silver called Nordoth. "Power Rangers represent a great deal of power, there has to be a governing body that keeps that power in check, and we are that body."

"Of course, but we all know that Dark Specter's forces are gathering," countered Marthal, "We cannot be distancing ourselves from possible allies with political snobbery. Mage Tashir proposes the creation of a new type of Ranger. I say we allow her to do it."

"We can't just go approving evey new Ranger that doesn't conform to the rules. The rules are there for a reason!" shouted Nordoth.

"Let us look to the Edenites," responded Marthal. "For a couple thousand years, they have had their Masked Rider to protect them without any of _our_ rules. Now officially the Masked Rider is not a Ranger, but he draws his energy from the Morphin Grid. I believe Master Borin is absolutely correct in his assessment, of what a Ranger is." Marthal turned to where Borin was still standing and bowed slightly. Borin bowed in return.

"And what of your opinion, Master Borin?" asked the Speaker for the Council, Natin. "We've heard you quoted, but not your voice on the matter."

Borin pursed his lips and nodded. "Indeed, I have made my opinions on the subject of what constitutes a Ranger, quite public. I agree with Master Marthal in his assessment of the need of Rangers, especially now. I say we grant Mage Tashir's project Ranger status. 

"I do not believe that is the most pressing matter," a voice from near the back of the chamber spoke up. All turned to see Rashid, he stood in his golden robes, arms crossed. "It's not so much that it should or should not be classified a Ranger. It's that a Purple has begun creation of a warrior who can turn invisible. Think of what she might do with it."

"That's enough, Junior councilor!" shouted Natin. The elderly man had quite a healthy set of lungs that belied his age. "The matter of which you speak may not be brought up again for another three weeks. However if you are simply showing yourself to be an ignorant bigot, you are quite welcome to leave my council chamber." The blue clad man was glaring at the younger, and Rashid was simply looking back in shock. 

Borin smiled to himself, few remembered that the Speaker for the Council of the Gird had the authority to dismiss anyone he ruled to be a hindrance to the proceedings. However, looking around room he noticed that not all appeared as outraged with Rashid's comments as Natin was.

In the end, the council voted with a three-fourths majority not to allow for Ranger status, but the vast majority agreed that the project should not be halted.

_It's too bad really, I'll have a talk with the young mage, let her know I support her work._ Borin thought to himself as he left the chamber. _Marthal's__ support though, it seems he's planning to set himself against Rashid and thereby deflect all trace of his involvement in this whole thing._ Well, there was nothing to do for it now, and Jacq's trial was today. Borin wished to be there when the team emerged, Rangers.

~*~

Ria Renae stood on a grassy rolling plain, clad in her ivory uniform. As far as she could see, there was nothing but the gently undulating land, the grass moving in a slight breeze giving the illusion of water. The small black haired girl looked around her quickly, but found that she was alone. All alone. _I hate being alone._

Taking a deep breath, Ria attempted to concentrate. _The trials, this is a test… only a test._ Looking to the sky, Ria noted that it was probably around noon. Choosing a direction at random, she began to walk. Quite suddenly a vision appeared before her and she stopped. 

A tall woman with Ria's delicate features and soft black hair stood there looking at her. But without squinting, Ria could see the waving grass through the woman and knew she wasn't really there. 

"My daughter," the woman said softly, and Ria moaned just as softly. 

"Mother."

"Come with me, Ria. Come with me and all your pain will be forgotten."

"But mother, I cannot leave my friends," replied Ria. "They will need me, and I cannot let them down."

Ria's mother shook her head, confused. "But Ria, I never got to know you. This will be our chance to be together, as we never were able to be. Don't you want that?"

_I will not cry, I will not show weakness. _ "Yes, I do. But I also… I want to be a Power Ranger. Things are getting bad here, mother." Ria lowered her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the pain in the eyes of a mother she had never known. "I have to be there to help. They will need me."

"Need you?" It was a new voice and one Ria knew all to well. "Who would want you, let alone _need_ you?"

The girl's head snapped up. "You." The venom was evident in the way Ria spat the word. The image of her mother had been replaced by a tall dark man with hard features and piercing black eyes. Her father. 

"Indeed. Thought you'd seen the last of me?"

"I couldn't be so lucky. I will defeat you one day. I will take you down." Ria's hands were clenched into fists at her sides. "Tell me, what did Dark Specter offer you?"

"The same that I will offer you, dearest daughter." The man smiled and Ria felt her stomach churn. "Unlimited power, immortality, unimaginable wealth. Whatever you desire."

"I hate you, ya know that?" Despite her earlier resolve, Ria could feel tears welling up in her eyes. For the times when the other kids tormented her with her father's betrayal, for the guarded looks and hidden whispers, for all the mistrust she had suffered because of his actions, she hated the man. No one would look at her and see her for what she was, but as the daughter of a traitor. 

No one, but Zordon. Zordon had introduced himself and she was so shocked that she didn't say anything back. The he'd asked to sit with her.

_"Don't you know who I am?"_

_"No."_

_"I'm Ria Renae."_

_"Pleased to meet you."_

_"I'm the daughter of Tolrich Renae. Master Vile."_

_"Oh."_

_The seven-year-old girl just looked at the blonde boy who seemed so unimpressed with the information that caused even her teachers to be wary of her. _

_"Doesn't that bother you?" she had asked incredulously. _

_Zordon's__ bright blue eyes had narrowed as he appraised her. "You an evil wizard?"_

_"No." Her answer had been immediate._

_"Well then, what's the problem?"_

Zordon had always taken her for what she was. Had always been supportive of her. He had come to her defense when the others teased her and had encouraged her to stand up for herself. In his own quite way he saved her from herself and the misery her father had put upon her. And then, five years later, he had introduced her to Jacq. She had only been twelve years old, but knew instantly that she was in love with him.

_"Ria, are you sure?"_

_"Zordon, come on, you know I'm too jaded for this to be some sort of puppy love crush. I just sort of… felt something when I saw him. Have you ever heard of being soul boned?"_

_"Yes, Ria, I have. But he's three years older than you."_

_"Like that'll matter when we're older?"_

_Zordon__ rubbed his neck, as close to real unease as Ria had ever seen him. "Well, if you're sure… I'm not going to stop you. Like I could anyway."_

_Ria__ just smiled. "You'll always be my big brother, Z."_

_"That's right," Zordon gave a mock growl. "And if Jacq does anything to hurt you. I'll have to show him just how much of a big brother I can be. Friend or not."_

Zordon had come around easy enough, but Jacq had taken a full year for Jacq to realize that he was just as in love with her. 

_"Um, Ria?"_

_Ria__ had been in the Academy library, studying for a test she had the next morning. Looking up, she smiled when she saw the red clad form of Jacq. "Hello. Have a seat?"_

_"Sure," but the nervous young man stood, rooted to the spot. "I, uh… I was wondering, Ria, if…"_

_Ria__ had kept a tight hold on her hope, after all, Jacq had shown absolutely no interest before. "Wondering what Jacq?"_

_"Um… would you like to… uh, that is…" Jacq's hand went though his hair in the manner that said he was really nervous. "I'd like to treat you to dinner some time. If that's okay with you."_

The memory brought a smile to Ria's face. Indeed, if not for her friends, Ria would have found very little to smile about. Zordon and Jacq had been the first. Later there were the twins, Dulcea and Nikolas Baligant. Nikolas, whose flippant and wisecracking manner so matched her own and was complimented by Dulcea's more serious, though sometimes mocking, nature. 

Finally, there was Dimitria, the youngest of them all, and perhaps the wisest. Dimitria was to Zordon what Jacq was to her. Though neither seemed to have realized it yet. The nights when she and Dimitria and Dulcea would stay up late talking about all manner of things, was innumerable. The training sessions and study sessions with her teammates, with her friends, had brought her a closeness she had though lost at that tender age of seven. When her father had defected. Having never known her mother, and her father leaving her, Ria had found a new family. Her new family had never cared that her father was one of the most feared and hated men in the galaxy. She was who she was for what she alone had done. 

Opening eyes she didn't know she'd closed, Ria found herself staring at her friends. They were standing in a stone room lit by a sourceless light, several hallways of the same grey stone led from the room. The others were looking around as though appraising their situation. As though they'd just arrived. 

"Let's just pick one and get moving," opined Nik.

"Any objections?" asked Jacq. There were none, so the team began down a random hallway. 

_Did none of them see anything? Was she the only to have had to face visions of the past? Did she really see what she thought she had seen?_

"Ria, are you alright?" Jacq was walking next to her and had spoken quietly.

"Hmm? Sure, I'm fine."

Jacq raised an eyebrow, "You seem distracted and we've barely started."

"I… I started somewhere else. I saw my mother, and my father." 

"Ah." 

The six had walked only a little further when they rounded a corner and found themselves in a large room. The walls were circular and stretched to the shadows above. At regular intervals lanterns were attached the walls and shed an impressive amount of light. The stone was still grey and as they moved to the center of the room, the group suddenly came to realize that their entrance had disappeared and there were no other exits.

"Great," muttered Nik. 

"Could be worse," countered Dulcea.

"How?" asked Dimitria.

"The room could be on fire." The others looked to Dulcea, somewhat shocked. Dulcea raised her hands defensively. "Hey, she asked. Come on guys, I'm kidding. This is a test, remember? There's gotta be a way out."

"She's right," said Zordon. "Spread out and start looking."

The six began feeling along the wall for inconsistencies, and searching the lamps for hidden toggles. It was Dimitria who found the engraving first.

_To each his own, and the others wait._

_The path of power is your fate._

_Achieve your goal, ignore all others._

_Friends, lovers, sisters and brothers,_

_Despite all else, do not look back,_

_Take or protect what you cannot lack._

"Ah a riddle," remarked the young woman. Then, raising her voice, "I've found something." Her friends crowed around as she recited the little poem etched onto the wall. When she had finished, ten doors appeared. Above each door was a new lantern, and each glowed with one of the colors of the grid spectrum. The riddle and thus the place they all stood, was between the Purple and Gold doorways. 

"Well, it seems a little too obvious, doesn't it?" said Nik. "We each go down the hall of our color and retrieve our power."

"Except," said Zordon, "That both Dimitria and I are white."

"Not to mention," added Ria, "That I have no color."

They all stood there, silent for a moment. "I think," said Dimitria, "That the guys should go. 'To each _his_ own,' that way, Ria, who does not know her color remains and only one white goes." The others nodded. "Furthermore, only go after the power, nothing else."

"Alright then," said Jacq after a moment more. "Let's do this."

The guys each went to their colored hallways, which, quite conveniently, put them equidistant from each other. 

"Go swift, return whole," said Duleca.

"May the Power protect you," added Dimitria. 

Ria simply waved as the three turned and began down their respective hallways. "So," she said when their footsteps could no longer be heard, "Does this seem just a little too easy to either of you?" As if that were a cue, a chittering sound filled the room and shadows began to climb down the walls from the dark space above them. 

"You had to say it, didn't ya, Ria?" accused Dulcea as the three moved into position that would allow them to guard each other's back. 

"Of course she did," responded Dimitria, "Who else is going to talk us into trouble?"

Soon the small shadow hominoids were upon them. Dulcea, who had studied under Thortal, Master Warrior of Phadoes, was the best warrior of them all, though they'd all been trained in hand to hand at the Academy. The fight was on and through various yells and grunts of effort, the three quickly realized that the shadows were endless.

~*~

Nikolas quickly lost the light from the main room and was instead trotting down a blue lit corridor. As had occurred to the others, this trial seemed to be going much to easily. Nik was keeping an eye on everything, waiting for the axe to drop. The corridor suddenly banked sharply to the left and Nik soon found himself staring into a vast room with stand upon stand holding sword upon sword, all lit in a pale blue light. In the air of the empty doorway words of light hung.

_Take the sword of power, _

_And all you desire will be yours._

_Choose not the sword of power, _

_And face hardship and pain._

Then the words disappeared, and Nik entered the room. "But how do I choose? There are just so many…" Nik moved from one pedestal to another, admiring the craftsmanship of each blade, the beauty of each jeweled scabbard. Swords of every size and style, each better than the last. Then, in what had to be the center of the room, a golden blade with a sapphire pommel gleamed in a shaft of light meant only for it. 

"That's gotta be it. The sword of power." As Nik walked towards the pedestal upon which it lay, he nearly fell as he caught his foot on something. Looking down, he saw a one edged curbed blade with leather wrapped handle. It was simple, out of place among all these grand blades. "What's this doing here?" he asked the room at large.

Then he heard a sound, the sounds of battle, back the way he'd come. Looking up from the plain blade, Nik began to reach for the splendid sword of power, but somehow it was further away than he'd realized. Taking several steps towards it, the sword seemed only to get further and further away. The sounds of battle intensified.

_Take or protect what you cannot lack_

_Blast it all, Nik, don't be stupid, _He chided himself, _what I cannot lack is back in that room._ Turning around, Nik started back for the circular room. On a sudden impulse, he snatched up the plain katana as he passed. _All face hardship and pain at some point. Hang on Dulcea, I'm coming._

~*~

Zordon stood in the entrance to a large room lit with a soft white light. At the far end of the room was pedestal upon which sat a smooth white sphere. With a dose of healthy caution, Zordon began to walk towards the pedestal. When he was about three feet away, a shimmering visage of a man in long white robes with beard and hair to match appeared on the other side of the pedestal making it seem more like a podium. The robes marked the man as a Grid Master, so Zordon bowed respectfully. 

The old man nodded in return. "What is your name?"

"Zordon of Eltare."

The Masters eyebrows furrowed a bit at Zordon's introduction. "No family name? How strange that you be allowed here." If it had been Jacq or Nikolas in this position, they may very well have returned with a clever or angry retort, however Zordon had learned to keep his emotions in check when needed, and so he said nothing. "You come seeking the Power, yes?"

"Yes, Master," Zordon's voice was calm and respectful. 

"Then place your hand on the sphere," the elder indicated the ball atop the pedestal. 

Zordon was about to do so, when the sound of battle caught his attention. Immediately he turned to go back down the hallway.

"Halt, Zordon No Name. Leave this chamber and you may never return."

Zordon turned back around confused. "But… what good will the powers be without a team, without my friends?"

"They are inferior. Even the White girl, she is no match for you. Take this power and you will not need them." The elder's face had taken on a somewhat lustful cast. Zordon backed up quickly.

"Right. Somehow, I don't think so."

"Despite all else, do not look back, take or protect what you cannot lack!" the man in the robes of a White Master practically screamed.

"Indeed." With that, Zordon turned and ran back to his friends. 

~*~

Jacq stood before alabaster arch, the swirling red energy within calling to him. The Power, and it would all be his. Slowly, he reached a hand towards that power and touched it. There were sounds, noises of battle behind him, but it was nor part of him. All that mattered was the power. Jacq stepped forward and the red light enveloped him. 

When again he opened his eyes, he found himself on a barren, dusty plain. There was no life anywhere around him. The sky was black with not a star to be seen, and yet there was light. As there was… in the place before. The sourceless light did not bother Jacq. Nothing bothered him. Here he was all powerful, none were greater than him. None. Suddenly there was a blinding pain in his temples and Jacq fell to his knees.

"Where… where the hell am I?"

"A close enough reference." The voice was harsh and gravely, it dripped malice. 

Jacq turned and got to his feet to face this imposter into his… his… what? What he found was a tall, skinless creature, bearing a metal exoskeleton and a silver staff glowing with a baleful light. 

"Who…"

"Don't you know, Jacq Dezz? I am you. You sold your soul, the power was more important than your friends."

"No," denied Jacq. "I'm nothing without them, they are everything to me."

"To bad they are out of reach now." Though the creature's face was covered by a gleaming metal mask, Jacq got the impression of a wicked grin. 

"I will not become you." Jacq concentrated hard on his friends, and a portal, the same white arch, appeared behind the evil creature. 

The skinless one glanced over its shoulder. "Fine then, if you wish to give up this power, you must get past me."

Jacq immediately went for the arch, spun to the left and felt the evil being's staff slammed against his stomach. Pain and blinding lights filled all of Jacq's senses. When the young man came to, moments later, he was sitting against the arch, his evil alter ego standing over him.

"You want to kill me, don't you?" the low gravely voice almost purred. "You could do it, too." One silvery talon pointed to Jacq's hand and the staff that lay within easy grasp. It was the same staff the creature had used to strike him. 

"I can feel the anger within you, Red Ranger. Take up your weapon and strike me down."

_Red Ranger_

"I'm not a Ranger yet," replied Jacq, "And if I give in to you, I never will be." The young man slid around the corner of the arch and through the energy. 

~*~

Dulcea fought with a single-minded concentration. There were so many of the little shadow creatures. She and Ria and Dimitria could not hold out much longer. Block, block, feint, strike, strike… A humanoid figure in jet-black armor dropped from the ceiling in front of Dulcea, causing her to take a few surprised steps back. Immediately the warrior began attacking her and she was on the defensive. Peripherally she heard Ria and Dimitria calling her name, but the voice grew further and further away. She was alone on this. 

The dark warrior was fast, but not flawless. Dlucea kept her blocks just a bit slower than she could manage, waiting for her enemy to make his mistake. _Here it comes. Feint, feint, hesitate…_ Dulcea focused all the energy she had left and struck the creature in the left breast a short flare of green light testament to the power she had given the blow. The warrior flew back and struck the wall where it struggled helplessly. 

_Destroy it now, while you have the chance! _

_What?_

_Now! Destroy it and be better than them all!_

_But…_

_Now!_

"No!" The force that had been trying to get Dulcea to attack the hapless warrior was gone. As was the chittering of the shadow creatures. The dark warrior stood and bowed, and was gone. Dulcea looked around to see her friends, a bit scuffed up, but none the worse for wear. Between that moment and the next, there was only one hallway leading from the room.

"I suppose," said Nik wearily, grasping a simple curved sword, "That we're supposed to go down that hallway."

"I see no other choice," responded Zordon.

"We _could_ stay here," Ria pointed out 

"Which would serve no purpose," added Dimitria.

Dulcea looked at her friends, "So, on?"

"On," confirmed Jacq. 

The six began down the hallway, moving cautiously. It didn't take long before they turned a corner and entered another room. This room was quite simple with a pedestal in the middle and six coins upon the pedestal. 

A sudden voice that came from no discernable source, addressed them. "Questers of Power, welcome. You each have been tested, and none found wanting. Now step forward, and claim that which is rightfully yours, Sol Rangers."

Each stepped forward and reached for a coin. There was a blinding flash of light, and when they could again see, they found each other clad in colored armor. The cuffs to gloves and boots trimmed in gold, each helmet had a black opaque visor and grey mouth plate. A blaster adorned the each belt as well. Looking around, however, the team found that though the general armor design was the same, they were not at all garbed alike. 

Dimitria's armor looked normal enough, but she was the only one of them to bear a long heavy cloak. The cloak was just as snow white as the rest of her uniform and with its hood it could easily cover her entire body. 

Nikolas' blue armor looked much like a hard version of a Ninja Ranger uniform. The sword he had picked up in the sword room was strapped across his back and in addition to the blaster at his belt, there were several hard leather pouches. 

Zordon's armor was covered by a white full-length trench coat. He raised his arms above and tried a few moves, finding that the coat in no way impeded movement. A long sword balanced the blaster at his waist, and further exploration revealed a few extra tools hidden within the coat. 

Dulcea wore a thin robe over her green armor. The robes trailing sleeves and habit of flaring when she moved quickly would likely have the effect of distracting or confusing the enemy. The belt to her armor cinched the robe at the waist and held a pair of shrieking sticks as well as the standard sidearm. 

Ria, when she looked down at herself, found her color at last. Her armor was the warm golden brown color of amber. Just the sight of the color lent her an amount of comfort. About her neck was a length of cloth the same color of her armor though it shimmered when it moved. It appeared to be a sort of loose head wrap that the desert people of Shahara wore. 

Finally, Jacq appeared to be the most conventional of them all. Two broad bladed swords were strapped to his back. Around each wrist was a heavy adornment with what appeared to be cleverly worked buttons. 

Further examination of what their new powers could do would have occurred immediately, but for the appearance of the arch. The six new Rangers looked at each other, then exited the room. 

~*~

Master Borin watched as the arch came to life with energy and six armored figures emerged. _What the blazes?_ He asked himself, though there was no ready answer. The new Rangers removed their helmets to stunned silence. 

"Um, is something wrong?" Jacq furrowed his brow and looked to the Grand Masters.

"Never…" whispered the Black Master. "Never has a team exited the arches as Rangers."

"What?" Ria nearly shouted, "What do you mean?"

No answer was forth coming from the Grand Masters who all appeared to have lost the capability of speech. Master Borin stepped forward.

"What he means, Rangers," Borin was careful to give the word proper emphasis, "is that when a team emerges from the trials, victorious, they are then granted powers by the Grand Masters." Borin tried to keep himself calm and focused. Things had just gotten more complicated. On the other hand, this new curve could be just what he needed to defeat Marthal before things got out of hand. If the new Rangers were willing. 

_Life has too many ifs._


	3. The Grid War: Part 2

**_Disclaimer:  _**_ I do not own the Power Rangers.  They are, in fact, the property of Saban… or has that changed to Disney by now?  In either case, they're not mine.  Further, there are various subtle references to things like 'Star Wars'.  Finally, I have been told recently that Ellen Brand is the originator of the term 'Grid Wars', therefore, all credit to her for said term, especially as it is the title for this series.  _

**_Timeline:  __About a month after The Grid War:  Part 1_**

**_Thanks:  _**_General thanks to the following websites:  El Fuñaroverse, Writer's Guide the PR Universe, PR Spoiler Warnings, and Power Rangers Central.  _

**The Grid War:  Part 2**

Nurture the Growth of Intolerance

The air was chill and thin, though Danier noticed neither, clad as he was in his Ranger armor.  If he had wanted to, his power could have easily accessed the information, 2.45° above freezing, and just barely enough oxygen to keep most sentient species alive.  But Danier wasn't here to take environmental measurements; he was here to guard a strategic position.  He and his team, the Rangers of Grier.  Danier was their leader, Red guided by the Lion.  Taking a deep breath, Danier didn't allow himself to realize how peaceful this high mountain pass really was.  How in a few more minutes, it would become a battlefield.  But if the pass wasn't held, the planet of Grier would fall to the armies of Dark Specter.  His home would become just another hunk of rock in the evil monarch's collection.  

"Danier, five minutes until they get here."  It was Vilhiem, second in command, a White guided by the Tiger.  "And Danier, Tolrich Renae leads them."  

Tolrich Renae.  Up until recently he was a respected member of the Grid Council.  Now the man went by the name Master Vile and was one of Dark Specter's highest generals.  

"This… won't be easy," Danier said at last.  

"We know," replied Rienhart.  She was a blue and a genius, guided by the Falcon.  

"We're all behind you, Danier, we know how important holding this pass is," added Vilhiem.  

Olhan and Fandaes merely nodded.  A Black guided by the Crane and a Green guided by the Mantis respectively.  His friends, his family… Danier simply nodded in return and for the next three minutes, the team of Rangers waited in silence for the enemy to come.  

After only a few moments, they could see them, rank upon disorganized rank of putrid misshapen foot soldiers, the throwbacks of Tolrich Renae… no, of Master Vile's experiments.  And mounted on equestrienne-like quadrupeds, Vile's commanders prodded and shouted at and herded the mindless creatures through the pass.  

If nothing else, the Rangers had surprise on their side.  After all, this was supposed to be a surprise attack and the Rangers were supposed to be at their base fighting off a decoy unit of the enemy.  They were not, so far as the enemy was concerned, supposed to be here, meeting them in this mountain pass that eventually led directly to one of the biggest cities on the planet.  A city that would have remained unguarded if not for the interception of an encrypted message.  

When the first ranks of the army finally noticed the five Rangers standing defiantly in the center of the pass, they shuffled to a stop, causing those behind them to stop or run into them.  The commanders, for all that they were more intelligent than those they pushed forward, didn't notice the Rangers until they began to wonder why the usual curses and kicks were failing to move their flock.  Finally, after several minutes of uncertain muttering and nervous milling, Master Vile was called to the fore of this army.  

_Good, thought Danier, __let them waste time, the longer they are about it, the more chance we have of getting out of this alive.  _

The grotesque three-headed figure of Master Vile hovered into view garbed in black and gold robes.  Steam issued from his three mouths as his foul breath touched he cold air.  "Well, if it isn't the Rangers of Grier.  I must say I honestly didn't expect to see you here.  But… is this it?  No reinforcements? They must be back at your base, protecting against the force I set upon it a few moments ago.  Yes?"

""You may as well turn around and go home, Vile," challenged Rienhart, the girl was confident as always.  

Vile snorted in contempt, "Five pathetic Rangers are going to stop me from conquering this planet?  You're not even a full team. How do you expect to stand up against my might?"

"The lapdog of Dark Specter?" baited Olhan, "I almost feel sorry for you, Vile."

"Soon you will know the power of the dark side…" Master Vile's voice was low and dangerous.  

The hordes of foot soldiers began rushing forward, and the Power Rangers of Grier fought valiantly.  Danier held his single edged sword in one hand, his small round buckler strapped to the other.  Vile's foot soldiers were weak, unable to stand more than one or two hits from the Rangers before disintegrating into nothing, but there were hundreds of them, and no matter how hard the Rangers fought, they could not stand up against such a force forever.  

Rienhart, the Blue, was first to fall.  The other four surrounded her scorched and battered body immediately, but she did not get up.  Then Olhan was separated from the group and disappeared underneath a pile of monsters.  When Fandaes' body was pierced by the bladed arm of one of Vile's more persistent goons, Danier knew that he didn't have long to live.  He and Vilhiem stood back to back, fighting desperately.  

Danier heard Vilhiem scream and turned to find his second in command down, bright red blood staining the pristine white armor.  He was alone now.  Somewhere in the distance a new sound added itself to the battle, but Danier didn't care.  He fought, empowered by this rage and sorrow, fought until he could fight no more, until he collapsed of exhaustion, and his vision went dark.  

The darkness was comforting.  

A knock sounded at his door, and Danier came awake quickly.  He was covered in sweat, his hands shook.  His bedchamber was dark, faint light from under the door illuminating everything in shades of grey.  The knock came again.

"Y-yes?" Danier's voice was shaky, despite his efforts to control it.  

"It is nearly midday, sir," cam the voice of Robin, his page, through the door to his bedchamber.  "The council meeting is due to start in an hour."

As Robin spoke, Danier got out of bed and wrapped a dark red robe about himself, then opened the door.  "Thank you Robin.  If you'll bring a meal to my quarters?"  

"Yes sir," and the boy trotted off to do his master's bidding.  

Danier went back into the sleeping chamber and touched the switch that would bring up the lights.  The room was carpeted in a rich wine red, the bed sheets in a similar color.  The walls and ceiling were painted off white and the rest of the furnishings were in similar colors.  The Red master clad himself in his dress clothes for the meeting.  He tried to keep his mind on the political situation at hand, but that in turn led him back to his dream.  For today, Rashid would most certainly bring up his proposal again.  That of coming to regard half of the Grid Spectrum superior to the other half.  In the month since the young Gold had made his proposal, the students of the Academy had dubbed it the Superiority Ideal.  

Many considered the idea to be preposterous.  There had always been a  bit of rivalry between the colors, but never and real prejudice.  Prejudice was something found in lower cultures, not on Eltare in the heart of learning of the galaxy.  Only the Academies of Acirem Prime of the M-51 galaxy rivaled Eltare in that area.  

Despite this, Rashid's idea had done something to these hallowed halls.  The Gold was gaining some support, and Danier knew that today, when the proposal was brought up again, Rashid would not be alone.  And Danier wasn't sure he wouldn't be among them.  After all, if Vilhiem hand been the leader of the Rangers of Grier, perhaps the rest of the team would still be alive.   

Robin arrived with Danier's meal, and the former Red Ranger ate in silence until it was time for the meeting, lost in thought.

~*~

Master Borin Voltaire looked about the Council Chamber.  All three hundred councilors were present.  Everyone was dressed in their finest, creating an interesting combination of colors in the well lit room.  Master Natin, Speaker of the Council, brought the room to order. The lights were dimmed on the council and intensified on the center stage.  

"The order of business today," said Natin somewhat reluctantly, "is the Superiority Ideal."

The council began murmuring at that.  Natin had referred to the subject by name, meaning that it now had an official label.  The only person who could officially label the subject was Rashid himself.  Of course, all had heard the name, spoke of in derisive tones throughout the halls of the Academy.  Many considered the name to have been in insult to the idea.  So why would Rashid have taken the name officially?

Rashid took his time in walking to the stage.  He knew all eyes were upon him.  Rashid did not relish this job.  He was at this best in military strategy, war games.  And yet, this _was_ a game of a sort, of strategy and maneuvering.  Rashid simply wished that he wasn't the one who had to speak to all these people.  But he was not in charge, not the one moving the pieces.  

"Distinguished Councilors," began Rashid, "I come before you today to once again propose an idea.  One month ago, I proposed to this council that five colors of the Grid Spectrum are superior to the remaining five.

"To remind you all, it is painfully evident that the colors Black, Green, Silver, Purple and Red are vastly inferior to the colors of White, Pink, Gold, Blue and Yellow.  This ideal, this Superiority Ideal is meant, not to subvert or insult the inferior colors, but to recognize their limitations.  The inferior colors are too unstable to be allowed into such positions of authority as this Council.  They are intrinsically a danger not only to others, but to themselves."  

Rashid stopped speaking and looked to the shadowed listeners.  Many were whispering among themselves and several were looking tight lipped and angry.  He sought out one face in particular, that of Master Borin.  Borin's face betrayed  no expression.  Rashid was certain that Borin disapproved of this ideal though.  In fact, Borin would likely be his most fierce enemy in all of this.  

"My proposal, is to remove all those of the inferior colors from the Council and any leadership positions.  It is simple as that."

Rashid moved to the center of the stage and lowered his head.  

Unlike the last time Rashid had proposed this idea, the room did not burst into shrieks of outrage.  Master Natin had warned them last time that such an out burst would not be tolerated.  Instead, everyone who wished to comment on the subject pressed the button on the consol in front of them

Master Borin did not press this button.  Instead, he slipped on a set of headphones and mic and dialed in a number.  The screen before him informed him that the system was waiting for a response.  It took so long that Borin thought the person on the other end wouldn't talk to him.  But then the message switched to 'connection established'.  Then there was a face on the monitor before him.  

Peripherally, Borin could hear the debate in the Council Room around him, but for now, he was concentrating on the man on the screen.  

"Hello Borin," the man greeted him.

"Hello Marthal."  Borin returned the greeting stiffly.  "You've done rather well.  I haven't found anyone who has connected this with you, but me."

Marthal's face remained impassive, "If everybody knew, old friend, it wouldn't work."

"But what are you after?  This makes no sense, you will rip apart the Academy."  Borin shook his head sadly.  

"You think so?" and the man sounded genuinely curious.  "Now that would be something wouldn't it?"

"I will fight you.  You know that."  Borin allowed a hint of steel to enter his otherwise emotionless voice. 

Marthal nodded slightly.  "I know.  Don't keep this all to yourself either, I want a challenge.  Bring in your best.  This will be an interesting game."

The screen went blank as the connection was terminated.  

Borin returned his attention back to the debates.  A man stood up on the side of the chamber opposite of Borin.  The man was dressed in reds and pale creams.  His name was quickly displayed upon the screen.  

Danier Yavin.  Former Red Ranger of Grier.  Red Master.

"Good morning.  For those of you who do not know who I am, I will tell you a bit of my background."  The man took a deep breath and Borin suddenly recognized the man.  "Nearly ten years ago, I was defending my planet against Dark Specter.  It was my decision that put my team in the path of an army; no team could have hoped to survive.  Leading this army was none other than Master Vile."

Danier paused doing his best to keep his emotions under control.  

"I am the only survivor of that battle.  I stayed alive long enough for the reinforcements who were holding our base to come and rescue me.  I have recounted this event over and over in my mind trying to figure out what I might have done differently, how I might have saved my team.  I have had nightmares for the last ten years.  

"And now I realize, there was nothing I could have done.  I didn't figure it out until Councilor Rashid made it plain to me in his proposal.  There was a man on my team named Vilhiem Corella.  He was a White, he was guided by the Tiger.  And it is obvious to me now, that if Vilhiem Corella had been in command of the Rangers of Grier.  We would be alive today."

Danier sat down.

The council chamber was stunned into silence.  

Master Natin cleared his throat and took the floor, dismissing Rashid back to his seat.  "We will take a short recess.  This council will reconvene on the subject of the Superiority Ideal in ten minutes."

The councilors filed out of the chamber in silence. 

~*~

It was only an hour before midnight.  Jacq's team sat around the low table in his room while Jacq himself prepared tea.  The room was decorated as one would typically expect from a Red Ranger.  The draperies and such were in shades of red.  It was interesting to note, however, that the bed sheets were all a warm orange-brown color. 

The team was dressed differently now, than they would have been a month ago.  Since their successful trial, the Sol Rangers, as they were now called, had been an object of curiosity.  Even more so than they first had been.  Aside from the fact that there were two White Rangers and one of Amber, a color not normally of the Grid Spectrum, the team's 'morphers' were an oddity.  Upon demorphing the Rangers had found that certain articles remained in their possession and no sort of traditional morpher appeared.  

In addition to their standard Ranger uniforms black pants and jacket (bearing rank and identification) with a high necked shirt of their Ranger color, each ranger wore their morpher.  

Dimitria had forgone the traditional uniform jacket, over the objections of many, and instead wore her long snow white cloak.  Zordon too had decided not to wear the traditional jacket and instead wore his full-length trench coat.

Nikolas wore strapped across his back, under the black jacket, the katana he had picked up in the sword room.  Dulcea wore her light and gauzy green robe over the traditional uniform.  This obscured the identification and rank on her jacket which again caused the traditionalists to frown.  

Ria, who had had to have several amber colored shirts made especially for her, had draped over her shoulders, the shimmery shawl.  Jacq was still the most conventional of them all.  About the leader's wrists were thick, wide bracelets covered with all sorts of cleverly hidden buttons.  These bracelets most resembled traditional morphers.  

"How long are they allowed to hold council?" Nikolas asked.  

"Until midnight," Zordon replied promptly, "If nothing has been resolved, They will begin again in the morning."  

The group sat there silently while Jacq brought a tray laden with cups, tea and sugar, and a pot with boiling water.  Each made their tea, lost in thought.  Then, there was a knocking at the door.  

The new Rangers stood quickly, the tea forgotten.   Jacq opened the door to reveal a young girl dressed  in a silver page's uniform.  "Yes?" Jacq greeted her.

"Master Borin would like to see you, Red Ranger," the girl replied with a curtsy.   

Jacq bowed in response.  Such a show of respect from one of Ranger status caused the young girl to blush furiously.  "Please lead the way."  The Rangers did, of course, know the way to their mentor's chambers, but it was a formality to allow the page to lead them there.  

As they followed the silver clad page, Nik leaned over to Jacq with a smirk and whispered, "Cradle robber."

"Just because I've got manners unlike some," Jacq retorted.  "I was, after all, raised in civilization as opposed to a barbaric jungle world."

"You wouldn't last five minutes on Phadoes," Dulcea returned, defending her home planet.  "Besides, you'd best be careful who you're smooth talking in front of Ria."

Jacq grinned at the amber clad Ranger.  Ria was looking sternly at Jacq but could maintain the expression for only a few moments before her face broke into a grin.  

Zordon and Dimitria looked at each other, rolling their eyes in exasperation.  After a while, they reached the door to Master Borin's chambers.  The page knocked and Borin admitted the Rangers and the page left to carry out other duties.  

Borin returned to his low table and the meal that was spread there.  There had been little time to eat for the councilors today.  The Sol Rangers sat around the table and waited politely for the Master to speak.  Borin munched thoughtfully on a piece of bread, took a sip of tea, then took a deep breath.

"The Superiority Ideal has not been thrown out.  Rashid is gaining support in the council, and I do not believe that we will be able to come to any sort of agreement for several months at least.  A man named Danier Yavin, a former Red Ranger who lost his team in battle, today supported the Ideal."

Borin paused in his speaking to butter more bread and eat it.

"The… 'old acquaintance' you mention before," said Jacq, "Are you certain this person is behind this mess?"

Borin nodded.  "Master Marthal Jeneth of the White was a contemporary of mine at this Academy.  It is he who is behind the Superiority Ideal, but I cannot prove it."

Zordon was taken aback.  Marthal Jeneth was someone all white personalities looked up to, and many others as well.  He was respectable, noble, logical, a long time member of the Grid Council and a legend among Power Rangers.  

"Master," Dimitria sounded just thunderstruck as Zordon felt, "Are… I don't mean to question you, but…"

"I understand how you feel, Dimitria," Borin replied, "How you must all feel, but I assure you that I am telling you the truth.  I wish I was wrong, but I know I am not."  Borin sighed and suddenly he looked older, thin and frail and under pressure of a great weight.  Then he straightened and fixed them with his yellow eyed gaze.  

"I ask you, Sol Rangers, to help me in this matter.  Such intolerance and bigotry is the cause of the greatest tragedies of sentient peoples.  I cannot do this on my own.  My abilities in the Council will only take this so far, I will need your support."

"You have my support," Jacq stated immediately.

Ria was not far behind her beloved.  "What Rashid, and Marthal, are doing, cannot be allowed to continue.  I am with you Master."

Nikolas and Dulcea spoke as one, "We will support you Master Borin,"

Dimitria and Zordon looked at each other.  Ever since realizing their Ranger Color, Master Marthal had been the standard against which they had set themselves.  The perfect White Ranger.  Tonight, Borin had ripped out from underneath them, one of the foundations of their lives.  

Dimitria took a deep breath.  "The Superiority Ideal must be stopped now.  You… you have my support, Master Borin."

After Dimitria had spoken, all looked to Zordon.  "I don't…" the White Ranger shook his head.  "I agree that the Superiority Ideal must be fought.  If it is not, there will be war.  But I cannot believe that Marthal Jeneth is the one responsible for all of this."

"Zordon!" Jacq burst out, "You dare to call our mentor a liar?"  Jacq looked angry and betrayed.

Zordon fixed his eyes on the table, not wanting to meet the gaze of any of his team.  "I will support you, Master Borin, in fighting this.  But I reserve judgment on the matter of Master Marthal."

Jacq looked ready to object, but Borin cut him off.  "That is all I ask Zordon.  The main goal here is to stop this madness before it spreads too far."

~*~

Tashir Rho sat on a three legged stool in her work room.  There was a desk behind her that bore several neatly stacked and organized folders.  The folders contained sheet after sheet of notes and calculations and information.  Various tools, from soldering torches to scanners to hammers sat in their cases about the edge of the room.  But none of that was visible to Tashir Rho.  

The room was lit by only one light and that light was focused upon the center of the room.  In said light stood an empty suit of armor.  The armor was black but for a polished grey belt and baldric.  In the center of its breastplate there was a depressed spot where a small gem could fit.  Was meant to fit.  Tashir held that gem in her hand now.  An amethyst.  The small purple gem glowed with an inner light.  A light that Tashir had put there.  

Tashir was a young mage, but quite creative, she had solutions to problems that no one had thought of before.   This warrior she was constructing… A Power Ranger in all but name.  She didn't care what the Council said, Tashir would think of her work as a Ranger.  It was nearly finished.  She had done all she could here in her lab, she would have to test it, to see if anything else needed to be changed.   

The young Grid Mage was startled from her thoughts by a knocking at her door.  Tahir stood quickly, nearly knocking over the stool, and touched the switch that would raise all the lights.  Then she answered the door.  

"Master Marthal," Tashir looked at the white garbed man in shock.

Marthal smiled, "Good evening Mage Tashir.  May I come in?"

Tashir blinked, then nearly stumbled over her own feet moving to allow the master to enter.  "Of course… to what do I owe the honor?" she asked.  

Marthal gestured towards the suit of armor in the middle of the room.  "I am interested in how your project is proceeding."  The White Master walked around the armor, examining it closely.  "It looks like you're fairly far along."

"Yes sir," Tashir responded quickly.  "I need to do some field tests to make certain all the bugs are worked out, but other than that, it's finished."

"Really?"  Marthal turned to look at the girl.  "Tell me Mage Tashir, did you have any plans for tonight?"

Tashir looked at her watch and blinked, it was one in the morning.  "Uh… not really."

"If you would like, we could run a few of those tests."

"We could?"

"Certainly, I have the clearance to get us into a simudeck.  I'm anxious to see what you can do with your new Ranger.  Unless you're too tired?"

"No sir!" adrenalin had flooded Tashir's system and she was ready to go.  Master Marthal Jeneth had just called her warrior a Ranger and had offered to sanction the first trials of said Ranger.  There was no better support than that.  Tashir smiled for the first time in months.  

~*~

The council chamber was once again full.  This time, standing on the center stage was Borin Voltaire.  Master Voltaire had requested first rebuttal of the Superiority Ideal.  

"It is true that the colors of the Gird Spectrum do arrange themselves, in general, along the lines of personality.  I repeat, this I true _in general_.  Our knowledge of the Morphin' Grid, whether you want to admit it or not, is quite limited.  The reasons that one person might be more suited to Blue over Green, or Black over Gold, for example, are not fully understood.  The patterning of the Grid, if there even is such a pattern is so vast that we cannot know for sure."  

Master Voltaire paused, looking over the assembled.  His theories on the Grid were not highly accepted.  Further those theories were not central to Broin's rebuttal.  However, those who would not be swayed by his next argument might be swayed by the theoretical debate.  It was saddening that it had come to this.  

"As for the abilities or failings of one of Rashid's so called 'inferior colors'…  He has used my own theories and opinions to back up his arguments.  However he has horribly skewed this knowledge.  

"Junior Councilor Rashid has said that the Purple's roughish tendencies make them unworthy allies.  But then who, I ask, will you have infiltrate an enemy base when information needs to be gathered?  Rashid tells us that the Reds are volatile and a threat to their own team mates.  I have never once heard of a case where a Red Ranger went on a berserk killing spree.  

"One might as well say that a Pink should not be trusted for his naïveté might spill secrets to the enemy.  Or that the Yellow is so focused upon discussions that he won't or can't fight when the time comes.  Or that a White is so concerned with order and chivalry that he might implement fascist rule over those he defends in the name of law."

There was much grumbling and whispering among the assembled, but Borin didn't stop.   

"I hope you see how ludicrous this is.  How horribly narrow-minded and bigoted this is.  Discrimination based upon color?  I never thought I'd see the day when this council would stoop to such a barbaric level as to seriously consider implementing such a bigoted idea into law.

"We are all fighting for the same thing here.  Freedom from tyranny and evil.  To keep the people of our universe safe from the horrors of Dark Specter.  And yet here in the heart of enlightenment, an evil has managed to worm its way into our midst.  I am ashamed of those who support the Superiority Ideal.  I expected better from the highest minds of the Grid Academy."  

Some of the councilors looked like cowed school children, others were nodding with approval.  And then there were a few who were looking at Borin with fear or hatred in their eyes.  The Yellow Master took note of those faces.  

~*~

"It was a good speech Borin," Nikolas commented.  Borin had specifically had his rebuttal made public and now it was being broadcast all across Eltare and out into the galaxy.  

"Thank you Nik," Borin smiled at the Blue Ranger.  The Sol Rangers were gathered in Borin's chamber, watching the evening news.  After Borin's speech, the Council had decided to recess for the rest of the day and so Borin had some free time on his hands.  The Yellow Master was using this time to confer with his Ranger team.  

"Unfortunately, I don't think it will be enough," Borin continued.  "Our enemy has many Councilors and who knows how many others in his pocket."  Borin had deliberately not said Marthal's name for Dimitria and Zordon's benefit.  The two would have to face the fact eventually, but not right now.  They had the leisure of time to adjust.

"So you aren't going to be able to convince the Council to vote the Ideal out completely.  But you can keep it tied up so that it doesn't get pushed into any kind of legislation right?" asked Dulcea.  

Borin nodded.  "I can.  But that's not good enough."

"Why not?" asked Ria.

"Because," Zordon answered for his mentor, "The longer it stays in the Council, the longer it stays in the minds of the councilors and everyone else.  The longer it stays in the minds of people, the more chances… our enemy has to exploit it."

"Exactly," agreed Borin.

Ria nodded.  "I see.  And there's only one way to have this proposal out of the council for good."

Borin nodded, but didn't extrapolate.  

"What's that?" asked Nikolas.  

"They won't like it Borin," Zordon observed.  

"Won't like what?" asked Dulcea.  

"There's little choice," Dimitria said to Zordon.  

"Excuse me!" Nikolas practically shouted.  "What is it you're talking about that the council won't like?"

"I plan to propose that the Grand Masters make a ruling on the subject.  I have confidence that the Grand Masters believe as we do and will close the matter for good."

Jacq had been leaning against the wall, a little apart from the rest of the group.  "But you'll have a hard time of convincing the Council to agree to such a course of action."  Jacq joined the rest of them.  "So until then, we play politics.  We try to convince everyone why we're right."

Ria sighed.  "But we _are right.  It isn't difficult to see which side is right… is it?"_

"Not normally," responded Zordon, "But… they're making it more difficult to see.  They're confusing everyone."

"So we've got to keep reminding everyone why Rashid is wrong," Dulcea looked around at the grim faces of her friends.  "This isn't going to be easy is it?"

"No," said Borin, "I'm afraid it isn't."

~*~

It was later, much later.  Jacq lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling.  How could it have come to this?  Damn Marthal Jeneth.  It was his fault that the Academy was tense as a bow string.  What the hell did he have to gain from this, from destroying the center of civilization in the galaxy?  He was splitting the Council, he was even splitting up teams.  

Zordon.  Jacq had barely spoken to his friend since Zordon had refused to believe that Marthal was behind the Superiority Ideal.  That Zordon could believe their mentor to be lying before he'd believe that Master Jeneth was an evil manipulator…  But to cease being friends with Zordon would be allowing Marthal to succeed.  Zordon was his friend, and Jacq would not allow Marthal to destroy that friendship.  

Beside him, Ria shifted in her sleep.  

_At least I've still got Ria.  With her, I can weather anything._

Jacq shifted his gaze to his lover.  Her smooth skin, beautifully proportioned body, gorgeous raven hair, she was perfect to him in every way.  There was none he loved more.  With her, Jacq felt he could accomplish anything.  

_There is hope for the Academy yet, Jacq told himself.  __I will not fail.  _

~*~

Borin proposed his suggestion of having the Grand Masters rule on the subject to heavy dissention from all sides.  The Sol Rangers openly supported their mentor.  They held public meetings to discuss the subject of the Superiority Ideal, everyone was allowed a voice at these meetings.  And on the surface of things, the general populace seemed to agree with Master Voltaire and his students.  But those in power, the politicians, had personal agendas and were not so quick to back what many believed to be right.  There was advantage to be gained.  The Council debated for weeks on end.

There were some places and some people who seemed untouched by the moral debate flying about them.  Tashir Rho continued her study of the Grid and the magic she could utilize through it.  She tested and perfected her warrior.  'Phantom' as she and Master Jeneth called it.  She ignored the political maneuverings that occurred on the floors above her lab.  

The White Master was due to make an appearance this evening.  He had given her unrestricted access to a small simudeck on the lower floors.  The 'deck could only run specific simulations designed to test battle equipment, but that's all Tashir wanted it for anyway.  

There was a knock at the door and Tashir  opened it quickly.  Marthal smiled as he entered.

"Good evening Tashir."

"Good evening sir," she responded. 

"I've been going over the results of your last run through the simudeck… very impressive.  Phantom is in top form, yes?"

Tashir couldn't suppress a pleased smile.  "Yes sir.  I thought maybe I should do a few more double checks though, just to…"

But Marthal cut her off.  "I was wondering, Tashir…  This idea for Phantom, was it the only Ranger-esque idea you've had, or are there others?"

Tashir felt a rush of excitement.  "Well… yes sir.  That is, there are others."  The violet robed mage hurried over to her filing cabinet and opened the top drawer.  Reaching in, she heaved out an over stuffed folder and set it on her desk.  Flipping it open she began speaking.  

"This idea comes down to the idea of simplicity and the nature of things.  In nature, the simplest shape is the circle and the simplest element is fire.  I am, of course, referring to the Elements of Occidental Eltare.  The nature of elements and…   But that's getting a little off track.  

"The ratio of a circle's diameter to its circumference is known as pi or π.  This ratio is singularly particular in that it continues ad infintium and as far as we know, which is to about the 200billionth digit, there is no pattern.  Even if there was a pattern, it would be so huge as to be inconsequential.  If that makes any sense.  Kinda like the Grid.  Master Borin says that the Morphin Grid's pattern, if there even is one, is so huge as to make it not worth the trouble to find it.  Anyway, the fact that the simplest shape cannot be described algebraically with more than a generalized accuracy is simply… amazing. 

"My surname is Rho.  Interestingly enough in the ancient alphabet from which the symbol π comes from, the letter rho or ρ follows directly after.  This becomes important because, as I said earlier, fire is the simplest element putting it analogous to the circle.  Saying πρ together gives you the word 'Pyro'…"

Tashir trailed off chucking weakly "It's uh… it's sorta a uh, a joke… sir."  The young mage looked over her shoulder where Marthal was looking at her notes with interest.  He was smiling, though whether at the joke or her notes was uncertain.  "So you see sir this possible warrior is a pyrokinetic of sorts, such infinite power in simple shape and element.  Superb mathematical control over fire though the means of circular motions."

Tashir finished and looked at Marthal a bit uncertainly.

"Impressive.  Very impressive.  How many have you got Tashir?"  Marthal had stopped looking at the notes and was nodding, a look of concentration on his face.

"Thirteen sir."

"Tashir," Marthal appeared very business like all of a sudden, "Dark Specter's forces gain power with every passing day.  The war is on the frontiers of the United Alliance of Benevolence but make no mistake that it is a war.  A war that is happening now and if we want to stop it, to win the war, we are going to need all power we can get.  I want you to begin work on your πρ Warrior."

Tashir furrowed her brow, seeing a problem.  "But sir, I've not the funding, the materials…  The council agreed to allow me to work on the Phantom but…"

"Not to worry Mage Tashir.  I shall become your patron, your mentor.  If you will have me?"

It was more than Tashir could ever have hoped for.  The most respected White Master on the Council asking her, _asking_ her, if she would have him as her mentor and patron.  "Y-yes Sir," she accepted shakily.  

Marthal smiled.  "Excellent."  

~*~

In order to call upon a ruling of the Grand Masters, there has to be a four fifths agreement in the Council.  For a full month, Borin Voltaire spoke of the injustices of the Superiority Ideal, of how such an evil had found its way into the hallowed halls of the Grid Academy.  Then he began to suggest that whatever force planted the Ideal was behind the fact that the evil could not be banished from the discussions of the Council.  

Finally, six weeks after Borin's initial speech, a vote was held on whether or not to call the Grand Masters to make a ruling.  Two hundred forty one councilors voted in favor of calling upon the Grand Masters.  Just more than enough.  

One week later, Councilor Rashid Kintarus and Master Borin Voltaire presented their cases before the Grand Masters.  

It was a large room, the floor was patterned in squares the colors of the Grid, the ceiling was thirty feet above their heads.  Windows along either side of the hall let in the cold grey light from outside.  At one end of the long room was a long table, each Grand Master sitting behind it in a high backed chair clad in their finest robes. 

Borin sat against one wall, next to a window as Rashid paced back and forth before the Grand Masters.  It was the same as before.  Rashid explained why the inferior colors were in fact inferior.  How his proposals for putting the Superiority Ideal into law were to protect everyone, especially the inferior colors.  

The Yellow Master looked at the Grand Masters, trying to discern their reaction to all of this.  It was doubtful that they had missed the public broadcasts on the Superiority Ideal, so they had to already know both sides of the argument, they betrayed no hint of what they were thinking however.  

When Rashid was finished speaking, Borin stood and took his place before the Grand Masters.  

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I will keep this short and to the point.  First, we do not know everything about the Morphin Grid and the reasons as to why one color is preferred by a particular person over another.  Therefore, to say that color determines personality is ridiculous.  Second, to imply that half of the colors are mentally unfit for any sort of duty within or sanctioned by the Academy is bigotry.  Pure and simple.  It is basing discriminatory actions and beliefs based solely upon color.  A reprehensible act. 

"I cannot make it any more plain than that."

Borin resumed his seat.

~*~

A crowd of people stood in the plaza outside of the Grid Academy's main doors.  Media representatives from all over the galaxy were present to record and transmit the decision that would be publicly announced within minutes.  All over the city, people were watching the holo news, waiting for the announcement.  Such was the case in Borin's private chambers.  The Yellow Master and his students, the Sol Rangers, watched the holo, a reporter droned on giving the background on the Superiority Ideal.  As if everyone didn't already know.  

Jacq passed behind the couch where Borin sat, Zordon next to him and Dimitria next to him.  Dulcea and Nikolas stood to one side, arms crossed firmly, eyes fixed on the image.  Ria sat on the arm of the couch, alternately watching Jacq and the holo.  

Finally, the tension mounted as Master Natin stepped out of the front doors and up to a podium bristling with microphones.  

The blue robed old man took a deep breath.  In his strong voice he said clearly, "The Council has voted six to four in opposition of the Superiority Ideal."


	4. 13 Angels

**_Disclaimer:  _**_I do not own the Power Rangers and am making no money from this fanfiction.  All ideas herein are original unless otherwise stated.  Do not take any ideas without permission.  No part of this fanfiction may be displayed without permission.  (1/14/2003)_

**13 Angels**

The room was bright.  At least, the part of the room that she could see was bright, too bright to see anything as a matter of fact.  There were others out there, beyond the white light.  She could here them.  What do they want?  Why did they have her here?  If only they knew the sorts of friends she had.  Powerful friends.  She was powerful in her own right, but she had forgotten the box.  Music was playing but this is the wrong scene for music, especially such pretty music.  Such music is reserved for work on the warriors as mandated by the boss.  

Then it was there, the Figure.  The Figure behind the White Light, hiding behind white light...  He asked her a question she didn't know the answer to.  Others hurt her for not knowing.  The Figure told them to.  Then it asked again.  

A Purple Sun.  It was pleasantly bright and warm unlike the white light of the room with the Figure.  The purple sun shone down upon flowing grasses and a quick movement, then it was gone.  It was hiding from something.  The grasslands would have been barren except for the hidden movement.  So long as the movement was there, there was hope, there was a Purple Sun.  

The Figure flared back into being, in the room with the light and burned away all that was, is, and will be into nothing.  But it did this because it was a puppet, a willing puppet, but a puppet all the same.  It is never the soldier whose ends are met.  

It all meant something, but whatever that meaning may have been was now lost to the Shaper until an unspecified time. This gave the Shaper no comfort.  

Too much symbolistic nonsense and not enough real imagery.  

But that would imply that imagery is real.  

No, no…  These questions within questions do no one any good.  These obscure images conceived in the mind of the caffeine deprived, sleep junky… wait a moment…  reverse that.  These questions are only irritating.  What is the point of displaying imagery of something that means nothing?  Further there is less meaning in presenting symbols in a manner that is unintelligible.  Why even bother?  To make someone listen?  Is this all simply an attention getting device?

Exactly.  I'm hiding a secret.  

That means nothing.  If there is any meaning here, let it be known.  

Not Yet.  

Knock, Knock.

What?

Tashir Rho started awake at a second knocking on the door to her new office.  She had fallen asleep in the chair at her desk.  It was a nice chair with a high back, plenty of cushioning, adjustable, and made of leather tanned a deep shade of purple.  Many of the furnishings in Tashir's office were a shade of purple.  As a mage of the Purple, using the Grid to manipulate reality, Tashir was naturally drawn to the color.  Just as anyone else who worked with the Grid was drawn to their color.  In fact Tashir was clad, as was customary, in a robe of purple.  It was an interesting robe, with small overlying folds of cloth giving it almost a scale like design.  Tashir had made it herself and was rather attached to it.

The young mage got to her feet and stretched, raising her arms above her head and getting a slightly dizzy feeling for her efforts.  The knock came for the third time, causing Tashir to start a bit in surprise.  Her sometimes short attention span never failed to irritate the Purple Mage.  Someone doing such important work should not be subject to such a ridiculous failing.  Wasting no more time, Tashir answered the door.  

Standing just outside the door was Kiln, Tashir's secretary.  The young Academy student had mouse brown hair and blue eyes hidden behind thick spectacles.  She was studying to be a librarian and stereotypically looked the part.  Kiln had come with Tashir's new laboratory.  Many things had come with Tashir's new laboratory, which happened to be much larger than her last.  In fact, it was an entire building.  Marthal had commissioned the entire building for Tashir's project.  Granted, it wasn't that big a building, but still.  

The bottom floor was taken up with desks where her assistants worked on notes and calculations and diagrams.  The next floor was a single room containing fourteen mist filled tubes.  Tashir only had notes enough to fill up thirteen, but Master Marthal had supplied her with an extra, just in case.  Phantom was in the first tube, though obscured by the mists.  In the second tube was Pirho, the mists tinted faintly orange.  On the third floor was her private office and the work room.  It was the workroom where all the real work was done.  

Tashir was very particular about the work done on her Rangers and insisted on being there whenever any work was done.  She still did most of the work herself, but some of it she left to her assistants.  Currently occupying the center of that room was a green and grey armored warrior.  

"Master Marthal is here," Kiln told her.  

Marthal had shown up for a surprise inspection.  Tashir was no longer awed by the White Master, but she was still significantly impressed that she got a bit clumsy and tongue tied around him.  Her assistants bowed respectfully at the Master and let their boss do all the talking.  Tashir led Marthal to the workroom.  

The White Master walked around the grey and green suit of armor then looked at Tashir, an eyebrow raised.  The Purple Mage took this as her cue to begin.  

"This one I call Swarm.  It has about it a theme of insects."  Tashir walked over to a worktable and picked up a small yellow item and brought it back to Marthal for him to inspect.  "These are the wasp missiles.  Fast and sharp.  They don't have a whole lot of explosive power, but they strike with enough velocity to burrow a bit into their target.  That coupled with the fact that they are launched en mass should make this a devastating weapon."

Tashir again went to the table and picked up another small item.  "This is an arachnid bomb.  It strings anywhere from one to several thousand thin wires which, when snapped, trigger an explosion.  The firepower of an arachnid is more than the wasp and is used in smaller numbers."  Finally, Tashir picked up the last item on the table.  

"Dust moth.  Several of these are released at once.  They release glittering dust and sparkles of light.  This is meant as a distraction, for example releasing several of these at once into the face of an enemy temporarily blinding them."

Marthal Jeneth inspected each mechanical bug, then handed them back to Tashir.  

"Each of these weapons is lightly connected to the Swarm allowing the warrior to control each individually.  The biggest obstacle so far with Swarm has been finding a way to allow for control of all the weapons at once."

Marthal nodded and Tashir continued, leading her master to a stand where a suit of heavy armor rested.  "This is the Kabutoain Armor.  When summoned it gives the Swarm several extra weapons."  Tashir indicated the helmet horn and spikes on elbows, knees, and toes.  "The armor is subject to change as I'm not sure how practical some of those spikes will be in combat."

"Finally my favorite part," Tashir reached into a pocket and withdrew a length of dark wood split down the middle with a hinge on one end and a clasp on the other.  "This is called a butterfly knife."  Tashir deftly undid the clasp and flipped the knife open.  The wood split and one half swung to meet the other back to back, as it did so it revealed a single edged blade.  Tashir handed the knife to Marthal who looked at it interestedly.  

"I have developed a Butterfly Sword for Swarm.  I don't know if it'll work though."  Tashir opened a trunk and lifted out the peculiar weapon.  Closed, it was still two feet long.  "I cannot utilize it with any sort of grace.  I'm hoping that a Ranger's enhanced dexterity and strength will be able to pull it off."

Marthal set the knife down on the table and looked at the mage.  "Tashir, you're working yourself too hard.  I hear you wont have any work done on the Rangers unless you are here."

Tashir blinked.  "Well… well yes sir.  I have to be here to make sure everything goes right."  

Marthal smiled fondly.  "My dear girl, you are too important to me to loose to exhaustion."  The White Master took Tashir's hand in both of his own.  "Please, allow your assistants to do some of the easier work while your sleeping.  For me?"

Tashir could hardly believe someone would show such concern for her.  "If that's what you want," she relented.  

Marthal smiled and Tashir felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders.  He gave her hand a reassuring pat.  "Thank you.  Now… is Swarm ready for a trial run?"

"Yes sir, I just finished connecting the equipment to the Grid."  She reached into another pocket and withdrew a small black box.  no longer or wider than the palm of her hand and only three inches tall.  It was a special box containing a warping of space.  It had been difficult to create.  Within this box the three morphing talismans of her creations were held.  It contained the amethyst that was the talisman for Phantom and a stylized golden flame set with small round fire opals that was for Pirho.  The third item was a small beetle shaped talisman, colored green and grey with tiny little emeralds for eyes.  

For every run though the simudeck, Tashir had morphed into the warrior she was testing until she perform the specific warrior's abilities without flaw.  She was becoming quite good at it and it took less time to perfect subsequent warriors.  

Tashir selected a few assistants to accompany her and Marthal to the 'deck in order to analyze Swarm's performance.  The hallways leading to the simudeck were dull grey metal.  As were all the halls in this building.  

As she walked down the hallway with Marthal on one side of her and Joson, another acquisition that came with the new lab, on the other, only half listening to the conversation, making appropriate noises and head motions, Tashir felt suddenly very tired.  Perhaps Master Marthal was right.  She needed more sleep.  But not now.  It was always 'not now'.  Sleep could wait.  Tashir reached to the power and felt her strength return.  

_But I'm not morphed, how could I reach out to the Power?  Is it because I carry these talismans with me all the time?_  An interesting question.  There had been cases before where a Ranger, for one reason or another, had not unmorphed for weeks, months, even years at a time.  Upon finally unmorphing, that energy suddenly was gone and the Ranger would often collapse into unconsciousness, perhaps even slip into a coma.  

They had reached the simudeck.  

Marthal placed a hand on Tashir's shoulder.  "Good luck," and he smiled at her.  That smile, that show of friendship, which had opened so many doors for her, made Tashir smile in return, and it was a genuine smile.  Master Marthal Jeneth was the father Tashir had never had, the friend she had always wanted and the mentor she needed.  She was determined not to fail him.  

Tashir waited until Marthal and Joson were in the surveillance room before she programmed the CCS, Craterite Combat Simulation.  The computer took a few moments to process the data, then the doors swished open.  Tashir entered the room and opened the box that contained the talismans.  She removed the Swarm Scarab gently, then put the box away.  The first of the purple Craterites appeared.  

A flash of grayish-green light and Tashir Rho, Mage of the Purple, was gone, replaced by Swarm.

Swarm faced down the horde of enemy soldiers.  A surge of power, a thought to shape it, a gesture to direct it.  Several small wasp missiles streaked towards their targets.  Swarm saw from dozens of eyes and flew into an enemy's face here, a wrist there, a knee there.  The wasp missiles detonated at once destroying a few of the enemies and incapacitating several others.  

Several more enemies appeared behind Swarm and the warrior reached back a hand releasing several dust moths.  The motes of substance obscured the vision of those behind her.  Swarm charged those in front, still recovering from the wasp missiles.  In a fluid motion, Swarm reached over her right shoulder and drew the butterfly sword, easily flipping it open.  

Behind her helmet, Swarm smiled.  

It was later.  Much later.  Tashir was in her office, as usual.  She was staring at her computer screen blankly.  Absently, she picked up a set of dice that were lying on her computer table and rolled them.  The cubes came up both ones, snake eyes.  Tahsir could no longer recall what she had been working on.  The white screen filled her vision until there was nothing else.  Nothing by pale white light bathing her face.  

The Figure appeared before her with its White Light.  The Shaper was cold.  The Figure asked the question again.  But it wasn't really a question.  Not one it wanted an answer to anyway.  It was an implication, and that implication hurt the Shaper more than any physical harm could.  The Figure asked again an again and Shaper howled in agony.  It hurt her head until the blood throbbed so hard it shook her head against the cold and all went black.  A liquid void, which really isn't a void at all.  

The Shaper took comfort in the lack of the White Light.  Just lightlessness.  The Shaper was staring into the liquid black swirling mass.  There was nothing in there but the mass and some sugar.  

Tashir opened another packet of fake sugar and dumped it into her coffee.  She was sitting in one of the small cafes spread throughout the Academy campus dumping yet another packet of caffeine into her otherwise bitter drink.  Her mind, as always, was on her work when she could make it behave.  Currently, said mind was on the trial run of the Swarm and its surprising success.  Marthal had been pleased.  

Tashir was working on two Rangers at once now.  Marthal had requested it of her.  He had told her the need for her Rangers was becoming more dire and the quicker she finished, the quicker they could be put to use defending the galaxy.  

Phantom, Pirho, and Swarm all rested in their mist filled tubes now, each built to the peak of Tashir's abilities.  

"Hello Tashir."  

Tashir's eyes snapped open and she looked up from dumping another packet of sugar into her coffee.  It was Joson, her top assistant.  

"Don't see much of you out of the lab," Joson smiled in a friendly manner, "Good to see you getting out some."

Tashir smiled in return.  "Yeah, it feels good to be out of the lab for a while."  Joson was nice to Tashir, always ready to offer an opinion, but never over bearing with them.  Always ready to go with whatever Tashir decided.  Before Tashir really knew Joson, she'd thought the other woman to be a stickler for tradition, something Tashir's projects didn't follow at all, and something of an egocentric.

Joson sat down.  "I'm still impressed with Swarm's run last week."  Joson glanced at the dice on the table.  "Two ones, is that good?"

Tashir raised an eyebrow.  "Sometimes.  Stars… Feels like I was testing Swarm just last night.  Where has the time gone?"

Joson frowned a bit, "You look tired, are you getting enough sleep?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" Tashir heaved a sigh, "I'm fine, I promise.  Besides, there's little time for sleep right now, we're getting close to finishing the next two."

The next two Rangers to be constructed were the Hema-imber and Harvester.  Tashir was getting good at this.  It had only taken a week to get the basic form created.  The individual weapons and power took a bit more and had to be concentrated on separately.  

Tashir blinked and she and Marthal were sitting in her office and she was explaining the two Rangers to him.  

She pressed a small button at her keyboard and a holo image of the Hema-imber appeared over the desk.  It was clad in bright red armor, a sword at its hip.  The cuffs of its boots and gloves were black.  A black mask covered the helmet done in a design of the ancient blood daemon masks.    

"Hema-imber means Blood Rain… but it's not as gruesome as it sounds.  It draws its power from others.  That is, while it has its own link to the Grid, its primary ability is that of draining the power of others.  In magic, blood is often seen as the life-force, as energy of a body, thus the name.   I understand that Hema-imber is a little frightening to look at, but the tradition of life force among tribes of central Enthara involves daemons and the masks they used to frighten off evil spirits."  Tashir removed a glove from a drawer and passed it over the desk to Marthal.  "These gloves are equipped with devices in the palms that make the draining of this force possible.  It's a combination of gravia magic and…  Well the technical details are rather involved.  I'll send you the full schematics later.  Anyway, this creates some extra energy that goes into regenerative qualities.  Blood Warrior will not likely ever have to power down from too much damage."

Marthal looked over the glove noting the piercing objects.  

"In addition to energy draining it has the ability to read the minds of its opponents, surface thoughts only.  It can incorporate what an enemy will do next into its strategy.  Blood Warrior can also temporarily absorb the knowledge of an opponent's special maneuvers and utilize a modified form."

Tashir typed out another command on her keyboard and another image replaced the first.  Harvester was in black armor with angular orange pattering on its shoulders.  A thick black caped hung from its shoulders.  It carried a sleek black hafted, silver bladed, scythe.  

"This is Harvester.  It is themed around the harvest season of my home village."  Tashir shot an embarrassed look at Marthal.  The White Master just smiled and nodded for her to continue.  "That is… abilities associated with the harvest season.  Wind is a big part of it, but…" Tashir trailed off, her vision blurring.  She shook her head to clear it and yawned.  

"Have you been getting enough sleep Tashir?" Marthal asked her paternally.  

"Yes…  I mean, I got five hours last night."

Marthal raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Honestly sir, I'm fine…" Tashir insisted.  "In any case, Harvester has powers based around the symbols and climate of harvest season." 

"Like what?" asked Marthal.

"Like the scythe," responded Tashir, "In ancient times, farmers would harvest crops with scythes.  Also, the wind thing I mentioned before…  Harvester can summon a hail of razor sharp blades that are hurled at the enemy with wind.  They're quite light and the shape and color of leaves that have fallen from trees during harvest.  You see?"

Marthal nodded.  "Indeed I do."

Tashir blinked again.  

The black caped warrior leapt high over the purple Craterites attacking her, and let loose with a powerful freezing wind.  The troops were frozen by the blast and as Harvester came back down from its jump, she swung her black and silver scythe shattering her enemies.  Another group of enemies appeared and Harvester sent thin whirling blades flying at them.  

But there was another warrior there, not one of the Craterites.  Harvester turned slightly and saw hidden in the lightless shadows this other warrior.  But why was it hidden?  

Because as long as it is hidden, there is the possibility of escape.  The most dangerous prison is one's own mind.  A mind operates best when opened.  It is a frightening power to be able to close the mind of another.  

Is that what the Figure did?  Did it close the mind of the Shaper?

Not entirely.  The Shaper is responsible as well.  There is something that the Shaper does not wish known to anyone, most especially to itself or else the Figure might find out and the Figure is to be thwarted or all will be ash.  

Yes, I already know this.  Tell me something I do not already know.  

Rest is the bane of the Shaper, for rest is meant to tighten the hold of the Figure, and yet the Shaper appears to have avoided this by hiding itself in the Purple Sun.  The White Light behind which the Figure hides is dimming.  It will be too late.  

I could do something if only you would give me a straight answer.  

Not yet.  

Tashir Rho stared at the armored figures before her.  She held a pair of dice in her hand.  It seemed all of her life now was creation of power.  No, that wasn't right.  The power was already there, she had not created it.  Instead she had tapped into this power and was shaping it.  Yes, she was a shaper of power now, and it was all she did.  She rarely slept anymore.  When she slept, she dreamt, and she no longer wanted to dream.  Master Marthal would not be pleased if he knew.  He insisted that sleep was good for her, helped to keep her in top form.  But Tashir knew now that the Power could keep her in top form as well.  Tashir field-tested and experimented with every power she had shaped into a warrior and she was in the best shape of her life.  Further, she kept each talisman with her at all times.  Even when she wasn't morphed, she felt a connection to those warriors and thereby the power.  

Tashir glanced at the dice in her hand.  Snake eyes.  

Five, there were five of them completed now.  That was a lot of power.

The two most recently finished were the Hema-imber whose talisman was a red coin with the daemon mask stamped on its surface, and the Harvester, a detailed metal leaf painted orange with golden gilt.  

But now she was staring at her next project.  

On the left was a white armored figure with black boots and gloves.  The symbol on its left breast was that of balance; a black and white circle divided by a sinuous line.  The helmet was stylized after a wolf with black eyes and highlights.  On the right was almost a mirror image.  A black armored figure with white boots and gloves.  They symbol of balance was on its right breast.  The only part of the black figure not a mirror image was the helmet in the shape of a tiger with white eyes.  

The White Wolf and Black Tiger were foils for each other and would, once they were completed, work very well together.  In fact one without the other would be quite hampered.  Each could sense what the other could, effectively being in two places at once.  However, they were still separate warriors and could indeed work separately if need be.  Each carried a single edged blade at their sides, White Wolf at its left and Black Tiger at its right.  The Wolf and Tiger also carried the ability to amalgamate into one being, combining their power.

Because the White Wolf and Black Tiger were so similar it was rather easier to work on them at the same time than it was with others.  In fact it would have been impossible to work on one without the other.  Therefore, Tashir had yet another figure in the workroom.  

The third figure was clad in smoky grey armor with pale yellow markings.  The Storm Bringer.  Tashir had always been fascinated by the simple power of a good storm.  She had integrated what she determined to be the six aspects of the storm into this warrior; rain, ice, fog, wind, lightning, and thunder.  Storm Bringer, by far, had the capability to harness more raw power than any other warrior Tashir had created.  It carried no sort of melee weapon nor did it excel in sort of regular combat.  Instead the Storm Bringer battled its foes with the elements of the storm. 

A Storm is power unrelenting.  The wind howled around the buildings of the Academy, rattling windows and driving rain to the earth.  Lightning flashed and thunder rolled.  Power magnificent within the roiling clouds hanging so low to the ground that one might simply reach up and capture some of this power.  

In fact someone had.

The Shaper?

Yes.  Who else?  This all about the Shaper, is it not?  

Maybe I'd have a better idea if you'd stop speaking in riddles.  

There is no other way to speak.  Listen now, and listen carefully.  The Shaper is bound though it does not know it.  It was bound in secret and then the memory of the bondage was wiped away.  The mind always works better when it is opened.  

Who closed the mind?

You know.

The Figure.

Yes.

What do I do?  I must help the Shaper.  Without the Shaper, I am nothing.  

Purple Sun.

By the Stars!  Why do you insist on tantalizing me with bits of fluff and air?  Why won't you just tell me?

Not yet.  

Lightning flashed followed closely by thunder.  Ice began pelting the window causing the young mage staring out into the tempest to blink slowly.  Had she really managed to contain such fury into a single warrior?  The thought was kinda scary.  Lightning again lit her face for a brief moment.  

She picked up her dice and tossed them onto a table.  Without looking, she knew the result.  

Tashir was supposed to be resting, but she couldn't sleep.  Wouldn't sleep.  The dreams confused her whether she slept or not, but so long as she was awake, they came less often.  Marthal suspected her insomnia, but he couldn't know for sure.  Tashir did not want to disappoint her mentor.  

Eight warriors completed and five to go.  

Life's experiences are different when you haven't been sleeping.  The Power is like a drug, take too much and eventually the effects start to wear off.  Or sometimes it begins to affect you in a different way.  Tashir always carried with her the box containing the morphing talismans of her warriors.  This seemed to be affording her a connection to the Grid that was always present.  She drew upon the connection in order to keep moving, to keep working.   

The focus of her attention was always on her work.  The rest of life passed her by so quickly.  One minute she'd be staring out her window at a raging storm, and the next she'd be in her office having a meeting with Master Marthal.  

"Sir, if we are to have these warriors ready with all expedience," Tashir was saying, "Then we should begin selecting candidates."

"Candidates?" Marthal asked mildly.  

Tashir blinked in confusion, the statement had seemed perfectly obvious to her.  "Well… yes.  We shall need humans to morph into the warriors, otherwise it won't work."

Marthal smiled.  "Ah.  Consider this my protégé, what if we simply allow the Power run the Rangers?"

"What do you mean?"

Marthal stood from the chair in Tashir's office where he'd been sitting.  "Have you not heard of the research?  A Power Ranger that is simply the personality of the Power.  It cuts back on the death of our people you see.  So long as the talisman is recovered, there's no chance of losing a ranger or a friend."

Tashir shook her head, a faint headache coming on.  "But sir… the reason such practices were outlawed is because there was no moral inclination behind such a being.  It does only what its master orders and whatever is in its nature."

Master Jeneth shook his head in amused tolerance, "My dear child, only without guidance or in the hands of the corrupt is such a thing dangerous.  With you guiding your Rangers and me guiding you, there is no chance for failure and every chance for resounding success.  Think of all the good we can do with your Rangers."

Tashir found herself nodding despite reservations.  "I think I see what you mean."

"I thought you might.  Trust me Tashir, I would never lead you wrong, would I?"

Tashir smiled.  "Of course not sir."

The White Master's lips quirked a bit and he said, "Tashir, I must ask, why are your dice always showing two ones?" he pointed to the ivory cubes.  

Tashir shrugged, "I don't know.  Just lucky I guess."

The laughed.  

"Now," Marthal clapped his hands together, "Show me the next batch of Rangers would you?"

Tashir nodded and punched a few keys on her keyboard causing a holo image to appear above her desk.  The warrior was dressed in black armor.  "The first is Nocturne.  A nocturne is the name given for a piece of music generally played during the night hours.  A serenade of sorts, it implies graceful movements.  Tashir looked up at Marthal and smiled a bit.  "I suppose by now you are used to my poetic nature?"

"Indeed."  Marthal was looking at Nocturne with interest.  "I believe your creative license in construction of these Rangers is the most fascinating aspect.  Please, continue."

"Nocturne, has no way in which to sense the visible light spectrum.  Instead, its audio senses, sensitivity to change in temperature, olfactory senses and the like have been greatly enhanced.  Some might see this as a disadvantage, but I believe that an enemy trying to hide itself from sight will reveal itself in one of these other ways.  Nocturne also sings in an attempt to confuse its enemies but the song is also to help it coordinate its movements.  Nocturne uses a style of fighting that is very much like dancing.

A few keystrokes and the image of Nocturne was replaced with that of a pink armored warrior.  

"The second warrior we're currently working on is the Rose.  Rose is a passive and crafty warrior.  Rose creates illusions to appear where it is not.  It confuses its opponent, manipulates them, gets them doing exactly what it wants, and then dispatches them with a single blow.  As little energy expended as possible for maximum effect.  Kind of like Pirho."

Marthal sat in his customary chair across the desk from Tashir, flipping through the notes and schematics.  Finally, he looked up, his face set in a serious expression.  

"Tashir, our situation has become critical.  Frontier and fringe settlements are under attack daily and the Council is hard pressed to keep these attacks at bay.  The addition of your Rangers would greatly relieve this burden.  I need to tell the Council something good.  Your Rangers outfitted with a starship could patrol the area and bring it under control.  But we need the full thirteen.  And we need it soon."

The Purple Mage regarded her mentor.  

"I can begin Sky and Kenryu immediately.  I'll need a staff increase of one hundred percent.  We'll have to work around the clock."  Tashir made several mental calculations.  "If all goes well, all thirteen will be ready in five days."

Marthal smiled his pleased smile.  Tashir felt a swell of pride.  "I knew I could count on you," he said.  "I shall arrange everything.  If there is anything you need, just let me know."

At all hours of the day and night, Tashir's laboratory was busy.  Techs calculated and designed and recalculated and built.  All of it was under the watchful, if somewhat sleepy, eye of Tashir Rho.  Nothing was put into action without her say so.  In under a week, the next two warriors were completed.  

Sky was a lightly armored warrior with the ability to fly effortlessly.  Tashir had managed to suspend the physics of inertia to a great degree with this warrior allowing it to stop and accelerate quickly and to turn on a dime.  Sky was clad in pale green armor and carried several kinds of small throwing spikes.  The helmet design of Sky was that of a vicious looking raptor.  

Kenryu was a Dragon warrior.  Kenryu was the best hand-to-hand fighter Tashir had created thus far with innate knowledge in several styles of combat.  Years earlier, experimentation had been done with high-speed data download of entire fighting styles into soldiers of the Grid Academy.  The project had been halted because of damage it did to a human's neural pathways.  No one had seemed to think of utilizing the project for creation of Rangers.  A simple request was all it had taken for Marthal to have those disks and the research files sent to her office immediately.  

Kenryu was a golden armored and quite splendid looking warrior with intricate designs on its breastplate, and its helmet a grand looking dragon with rubies for eyes.  

Then there were twelve.  Only one left to go.  She was almost there.  

Tashir's thoughts were interrupted by a voice.  

_"You will obey me."_

The voice of the Figure, over and over.  The relentless command was harder now to resist despite the Purple Sun.  It had shone without pause for much too long now.  It could harm the Shaper if not allowed to rest.  

_"You will obey me."_

The difference between dream and awake was almost indiscernible to Tashir anymore.  

We are running out of time.  

So tell me.  Tell me what happened.  Tell me what is going on.  

Not Yet.

Why not?  How is it I am supposed to be able to do anything when you tell me nothing.  

What makes you think you _can _do anything?

Because I must.  I am her.  I _am_ the Shaper.  I must do something, but I can't unless I know what is going on.  

And just what the hell do you think _I_ am?  Did you ever think that there was a reason the Shaper forgot?  

Because she was made to.  

And because she wanted to.  Because she needed to for her own safety.  If we remember now, then we remember it all at once and there is no turning back.  If we remember now… The Figure will find out.  If the Figure finds out we will be unable to fight him.  

How do you know that?  Perhaps if we remember, it will give us what we need to defeat him.  

Perhaps.  

So lets do it.

…Alright.

She was taken from her bed in the night.  She tried to grasp her talismans, the small magical items that would allow her to utilize the Morphin Grid to change into a powerful warrior, but they held her fast.  She was carried in the dark for much time before secured into a chair.  It was an uncomfortable chair of metal, cold against her bare skin.  Her wrists and ankles and waist were held in place with biting nylon straps.  

The covering was taken from her face and she squinted her eyes against the bright white light.  Her eyes blurred with tears and her head began to throb.  A sharp pain in her side caused her to try to look down but her head too was held in place.  She began to feel light headed.  

"Dear Tashir," the voice of Marthal Jeneth.  

No!  He was her friend, her mentor, why would he do this to her?

"Thirteen Rangers.  You have thirteen Rangers for me, and I simply cannot let something like that slip away.  Therefore, I will make you mine.  You will become absolutely loyal to me."

"But," stammered the mage, "I'm already loyal to you."

She couldn't see the White Master, all she could see was the blinding light.  The White Light.  It hid everything in the room.  

"Of course you are."  For a few moments there was silence.  "What if I told you that there was corruption in the Council, Tashir?  What if I told you that a high ranking White Master was under the tutelage of the Dark Specter himself?"

"Wha… I don't understand."

Marthal chuckled and it wasn't the grandfatherly patience Tashir associated with the man.  It was a malicious, deriding, laughter.  "For a Purple, you're not very fast on the uptake.  Let me put it to you simply.  I am an agent of Dark Specter.  I have instigated the Superiority Ideal in order to create a rift in the Grid Council and I shall use your Rangers in order to control the city after the Grand Masters have been killed."

Tashir was horrified.  The White Light before her began to blur and take amorphous shape.  Her eyes began to drift shut, but someone in rubber gloves roughly taped them open.

"Why?"  

"You will obey me.  You will create your Rangers for me Tashir."

"Why are you doing this?  Why are you telling me?"

Marthal was silent for a while causing Tashir to loose herself in the blinding light and the spots of darkness that were popping up before it.  

"Because."  When Marthal spoke, it caused Tashir to jump.  "Because I'm rather sadistic.  I enjoy seeing you in mental anguish.  Knowing that you will assist in the downfall of the United Alliance of Benevolence and that you have no choice in the matter."

A finger lightly ran up the middle of Tashir's torso causing her to shiver and try to cringe away in disgust.

"You will obey me Tashir.  You will obey me.  You will…" The blinding white light faded slowly and the command echoed in her brain.  

She might have been asleep, but she wasn't.  They thought she was.  She could see nothing, could feel nothing, but suddenly she could hear voices.  

"Sir, will she be capable of creating these Rangers?  That was a lot of Tzoric-dine I shot into her."  It was a voice she didn't know.  

"It doesn't matter," that was Marthal.  "You have her notes don't you?"

"Creating powers isn't that easy sir.  Tashir is a mage and thinks intuitively.  I don't have the power she does and further, her notes are haphazard and incomplete.  Sir, I don't-"

The sound of a blow to soft flesh stopped Marthal's companion.  "I don't want excuses.  If you have destroyed the mage's mind, it will be you in that chair next time.  I want those Rangers Joson."

Joson was crying.  "Yes sir."

"Remember to encourage her to sleep.  Sleep enhances the suggestions we've implanted."

"Y-yes sir."

"Now get out of my sight, your sniveling disgusts me."  

Tashir's ears filled with a buzzing and then she was again in the void.  

I see now, everything is beginning to make sense.  

No, not everything.  You know now who the Figure is, and why he is our enemy, but you still do not know our dangerous secret.  Once we know this, the Figure will consider us a threat and we may not be able to fight him off.  I forgot this on purpose.

I must know.  We must know.

The truth is a dangerous thing and must be handled carefully.  There is no choice now, but I hope you're right.  

Tashir Rho had completed the warrior quickly.  She had done it in the basement of the building she had been given, when everyone thought her asleep.  It was a purple warrior, her color.  Its helmet was designed after a snake, a cobra to be exact, her spirit guide.  This was the Ranger she had designed for herself.  A tall collar framed the helmet, something like the hood of a cobra.  The collar was attached to a long robe of purple created with folds in such a way as to appear as scales.  The armor was light and on the chest was a golden crest featuring the king of serpents.  

A purple staff was held in the hands of the warrior capped by the black enameled head of a cobra.  It was her only weapon.  Tashir finished connecting the talisman to the Grid and prepared to empower the armor and weapons and abilities of the warrior.  The talisman was a small golden coin, the most traditional of morphing talismans.  

Ten days, she had completed the Violet Cobra in ten days.  

Oh by all that is good and sweet in the universe.  

Didn't I tell you it was a dangerous secret?

That robe…

Yes.

Then that means… all this time… that's dangerous for us.  

Indeed it is, but we felt there was no other choice.

I can understand that.  What do we do now?

Now we wake up and take things as they come.  Now that we know, we must stop the Figure.  

Wake up.  Wake up.

Tashir Rho stood up quickly.  She was at her desk, in her office.  She was alone.  

"I know now."  She spoke aloud though there was no one to hear her.  "Marthal is a traitor and sought to use me and my creations to take over the city on the orders of Dark Specter."

Tashir ran her hands over her robe.  For the past three months, Tashir had remained morphed in standby mode as the Violet Cobra.  She had morphed as her other warriors while in this mode.  Something she had assumed to be impossible.  It had been the Violet Cobra, that warm Purple Sun that had kept her from succumbing to the commands of Marthal.  But prior to that… prior to the creation of Violet Cobra, she had managed to fight off the programming long enough to create the warrior that would keep her sane.  She had shown amazing force of will.  Tzoric-dine was a powerful mind destroying drug.  

"It is time I stopped Marthal Jeneth," Tashir whispered.  Taking the hood of her robe in her hand, Tashir slowly pulled it over her head, hiding her face in shadows.  Softer still, she said, "Back to Action."

She rolled the dice.  Snake eyes.  

It was the dead of night.  Stealthily Violet Cobra slipped through the grounds of the Academy, unseen by any.  She quickly found the building in which Marthal resided.  The security was no match for her abilities and expertly she made her way to the White Master's apartments.  She opened the door quietly and was quickly inside.  What she found had not been what she'd expected.  

Marthal sat in a comfortable chair, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.  He looked up mildly at the Purple warrior who had just come into his private chambers.  

"Tashir, good to see you.  You truly are a remarkable person, you know that?"

"I'll stop you Marthal," Violet Cobra hissed menacingly.  

Marthal smiled.  "What you do not realize my dear, is that I control you."

She shook her head, "No, I've defied you since the beginning."

"Um."  Marthal took a sip of wine.  "I'd been afraid that my brainwashing attempt had failed, but I plan for every occasion."  Marthal set down the book and took up a small black box resting on his low table.  The box she had created.  Marthal had the talismans.

"How…"

Marthal shook his head, "It doesn't matter my dear.  I've won.  All I need is your last warrior there, and I'll have what I want.  Now, demorph and give it to me."

"Never!" she screamed as she launched herself at Marthal, the cobra staff raised high.  

Violet Cobra was stopped however, by someone she couldn't see grasping her ankle mid flight, and twisting it sharply.  The air rippled and a familiar black armored warrior appeared.  Then Mathal reached down, and with a touch, forcibly demorphed her.

"Tashir, you remember the Phantom Ranger, don't you?"

The young mage was in blinding pain.  "How…"

"Oh, it's a trick I've picked up.  You never know when you might need to demorph a Ranger.  I must thank you dear Tashir.  You've provided me with exactly what I needed.  A coterie of warriors devoted just to me.  But you have outlived your usefulness."  Marthal laughed.  "This was easier than I thought it would be."

Tashir screamed as powerful hands grasped her under her shoulders as another held a foul smelling cloth to her face.  The world faded from her vision into a blinding White Light.  The Purple Sun was gone, swallowed by the light just like everything else.  

We've failed.

Yes, we have.  But we had to try.  Didn't we?  …didn't we…

And the Figure that was a puppet burned away all that was, is, and will be.  With the power of the Purple Sun, the Figure brought hell to the shining star of civilization.  The Shaper was broken and thrown out to die.  All became nothing, and nothing was all.  The White Light had prevailed.  


End file.
